


Out of the Howling

by Goldy, thirty2flavors



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2178963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/pseuds/thirty2flavors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Whatever reaction she’d expected from telling her boyfriend that his alien duplicate from another universe was contacting her telepathically, this wasn’t it.</i> COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_A voice was calling Rose Tyler’s name._

_"Rose."_

_She tried to reach out but there was nothing. She felt lost in a fog. There was a tingle in the back of her mind, a memory trying to pull its way out, and the voice came again:_

_"Rose."_

_She knew that voice; she'd heard it before._

_"Rose."_

_A ghost reaching out. Please don’t go, she tried to say. I know you. If I could just... just... remember..._

_And then: “Help me.”_

Fingers snapped in front of her face.

"Rose? Rose are you even listening to me?” Rose jerked awake and Jackie’s annoyed face swam into view. She was standing in front of Rose, one hand on her hip, the other waving a spatula accusingly in Rose’s face. “For the last time, did you want chicken or a kebab?”

Rose winced as bright sunlight rushed into her eyes. She reached up to scratch her head, and then glanced around her. She was in a back garden, curled up on a lawn chair. 

“Mum, how did... where....” she began, and caught sight of her dad on the porch, flipping kebabs on the barbeque. From around the house, she heard the familiar sounds of Tony’s high pitched, slightly maniacal laughter, which meant the Doctor was somewhere nearby. “The mansion,” she said slowly. “Sunday. It’s family barbeque Sunday.”

Jackie folded her arms over her chest, staring down at Rose with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “I told your father not to hand out those cocktails. Like drinking acid, those were. I must’ve been calling your name for ten minutes.”

“Sorry, mum, I drifted off,” Rose said slowly. She reached up to scratch her head again, frowning. It was more than that, though. “There was a voice,” she said suddenly. She looked up at Jackie. “Did you hear it? It sounded like it was calling my name.”

“No voices from out here, sweetheart, unless you count the lecture I gave to the Doctor after he chased your brother through my tulip garden.” Jackie frowned, and Rose couldn’t tell whether she was more concerned for Rose’s sanity or for her tulip garden. “Maybe you’re falling ill,” she suggested, and pressed her free hand against Rose’s forehead.

Overhead, a zeppelin trundled by, a long vapour of black smoke trailing behind it. It had been unusually warm lately, even for the height of summer. A fine sheen of perspiration had collected on Rose’s face, and she brushed some of the sweat out of her eyes, sitting up straighter.

“ _Mum_ ,” Rose said warningly, batting at her hand. “I know how it sounds, but....” she sighed, “okay, ‘I heard a voice in my head’ really does sound a bit mad, doesn’t it?”

“Well I suppose it’s not the maddest thing you’ve ever said,” Jackie pointed out. “What does the Doctor have to say about it?”

Rose suddenly felt defensive. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

As if he sensed they were talking about him, the Doctor trotted over, carrying a plate filled with kebabs and precariously balancing two glasses of lemonade in the crook of his arm. Rose gave her mother a significant look and shook her head, silently trying to convey she _really_ wanted to change the subject.

She was not in luck. “How long has Rose been hearing voices for?” Jackie demanded loudly as soon as the Doctor was in earshot. “What sort of voices? And how comes neither of you told me about it?”

The Doctor blinked at Jackie and then turned his gaze to Rose. “I’m not - ” she began, “ - there was... I was dreaming,” she finished lamely.

The Doctor looked concerned. “It’s happening again, isn’t it?” He handed Rose the plate of food and the two glasses of lemonade to Jackie before rooting around in his pockets.

“What’s happening?” said Jackie. “What is it, Doctor?”

“Oh my god, the pair of you,” said Rose, burying her face behind her hands. “It was just an afternoon kip, that’s all.” She tensed when she heard something buzzing in front of her face and pulled her hands back. “Are you _sonicking_ me?”

The Doctor had the sense to look embarrassed, but he didn’t pull the sonic screwdriver back from Rose’s face. “Well, you’re not possessed, you haven’t ingested any poison, and it doesn’t look like your body is playing host to any alien species.” The Doctor turned off the sonic screwdriver and stuffed it back in his pocket, looking worried. “I know you’ve noticed, Rose. The last few weeks, you’ve been drifting off at strange times; sleeping in and missing work; daydreaming while out on the job. It’s been happening on and off. More 'on' lately than off, truth be told. A voice, though. That’s new." His expression shifted from worried to thoughtful. "Like a low level form of hypnosis."

Rose knew there was an element of truth to what he was saying, and flushed when she thought about how Jake had caught her in her office on Friday, head bent down on her desk, a small pool of drool collecting on a pile of internship applications. Still, she hated when he used that you-small-dumb-human tone of voice on her.

"That's ridiculous," she said. "I'm tired, that's all. I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"You've been sleeping fine."

Rose pressed her lips together and stared at him, not replying right away. Trust a part-Time Lord to know her own circadian rhythm better than she did. She might have been sleeping fine, but she still _felt_ exhausted. She wasn't going to share that with the Doctor, though. She had a feeling he would never let things alone if she did.

"Then maybe it's 'cos it's hot out. Not all of us can neutralized the particles into water and absorb it into our skin.”

"I can't... do that as well as I used to be able to," the Doctor said. He sighed, but seemed to relent. He plucked one of the lemonades out of Jackie’s hands and held it out to Rose who shifted the plate of kebabs to her knees. “Come on, drink up. Doctor’s orders."

Rose rolled her eyes. "You too, mister not-as-well-as-I-used-to." She smirked at him and she was relieved when he smirked back.

Jackie’s eyes jumped back and forth between them like she was watching a particularly fast moving tennis match. Finally, she shook her head. “Honestly, the pair of you. Sometimes I only understand about half of what you’re saying.” 

Rose took a sip of lemonade and glanced up at the Doctor, unable to hide her smile. She knew it wasn’t always fair to others, but she loved that she and the Doctor had their own sort of language. They could be in a room full of people and still feel like they were the only two people who mattered. 

For the moment, Jackie appeared satisfied that Rose was not losing her mind. She now seemed more focused on Pete who was still determinedly grilling away at the barbeque. Next to him, the plate of kebabs was so high, the pile was beginning to look like a losing game of jenga. Jackie sighed. “The man doesn’t so much as lift a finger to help make a meal all week, but give him a barbeque and he’ll cook enough food to feed an alien invasion.”

Jackie handed the Doctor his lemonade and then bustled off, calling Pete’s name loudly and making the Doctor wince in sympathy.

Rose picked up a kebab and bit into it, suddenly starved. “Good job dad was on cooking duty this week. S’good.”

The Doctor dropped down to sit next to her, making the lawn chair dip slightly to one side. The chair definitely wasn’t meant to hold two, but Rose didn’t mind. She took the opportunity to lean into the Doctor, probably more than was strictly necessary and passed him the plate of kebabs. His body temperature was still a few degrees cooler than a normal human's. At the moment, it felt amazing.

“I’m still trying to forget the kale lasagna your mum served last week,” the Doctor said. “I mean, lasagna I understand. I even understand this universe’s sudden obsession with kale, although just wait until the year 2016 when chard becomes all the rage. But _together_?” 

The Doctor shuddered. Rose patted him on the hand, and with her mouth full of kebab, said, “Maybe next month when it’s mum’s turn to cook again, there will be some emergency at Torchwood and we won’t have to come.”

The Doctor looked wistful. “Oh, I’m not sure even a horde of invading aliens would interrupt Jackie Tyler’s dinner plans.”

Rose snickered and picked up another kebab. She glanced up to find the Doctor watching her. “What?” 

Suddenly serious, he said, “Rose, if there was something wrong... even if you thought it was nothing, even if you thought it was silly - you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Rose forced herself to smile. “Course I would.”

The Doctor smiled back, looking reassured, and picked up a kebab. Rose took a bite of her own, chewing methodically while her stomach twisted guiltily. Suddenly she didn’t feel hungry anymore.

\---

_"Rose."_

_Who's there?_

_"Rose—"_

_That voice. She would know that voice anywhere._

_She heard that voice every day._

_...Doctor?_

_There was a silence and for a horrible, aching moment, she worried that she got it wrong. Then he said: “You can hear me.”_

_Yes! she found herself saying in return. Where are you? What’s happening?_

_How was this possible?_

_Rose tried to look around her, but it was like being pulled inside out._

_“I’m inside your head,” said the Doctor. Even as he spoke, Rose felt something in the back of her mind – a tingle, a presence of some sort. It wasn’t painful, exactly. But it wasn’t comfortable either._

_She found herself saying his name: “Doctor?”_

_It was funny how painful it could be to call him that, even though she said it every day to another man wearing his face. This was different, though. This was the one who turned and left her behind, and even though Rose had done her best to understand why and move on, it was an ache that never really left._

_“That’s me, the Doctor,” said the voice, and this time he definitely sounded smug. “The one and only.”_

_His voice faded on the last few words. Rose felt a flash of fear. “What's happening? What do you need?"_

_“You’ve got to get me out of here,” said the voice. There was something desperate about it, a panic Rose had never heard from him before._

_“I... okay,” Rose said, her own panic rising. “Where are you? Where’s ‘here’?”_

_There was no answer. Rose held her breath, waiting._

_"Doctor?" she called out._

_There was silence – a horrible silence that seemed to stretch on and on. She almost cried out – almost asked if he was still there, but she could still feel him in her mind._

_Then – "I’m trapped.”_

_“What do you mean – trapped? Trapped, where?”_

_There was no answer._

_“Doctor!” she yelled. “Are you still there?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“How do I help?” Again, he was silent. Her panic grew. “Tell me what I can do. Doctor?”_

Something shook her shoulder. Rose flinched and her eyes snapped open. She was laying in bed. Morning light was streaming through the blinds, and she squinted as the Doctor’s face swam into view. He was kneeling atop the comforter, looming over her, his shirt half-buttoned and his hair still wet from the shower. 

"Rose." He crouched in front of her, face close to hers. A drop of water fell from his hair and landed on her cheek. "You were calling my name."

She blinked at him, tired and confused, and pushed herself onto her elbows. "I wasn't – I..."

"Rose—" he pulled her in for a hug and she let him, chin instinctively resting on the crook of his shoulder. "I'm here now. Whatever is happening to you, we'll sort it out, I promise."

"I wasn't calling for you," Rose whispered.

He tensed and pulled away, eyes searching her face. "Rose, what's going on? Tell me. Please."

Rose looked away from him, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. "It was him. The other Doctor. He's been calling me." She took a deep breath. "He needs my help."

As she spoke, she looked back at him and saw the worry and concern in the Doctor’s face melt away, replaced by something darker. He opened his mouth but said nothing before he closed it again. Thin lines appeared on his forehead as he drew his eyebrows together like he always did when sorting out a puzzle. Whatever reaction she’d expected from telling her boyfriend that his alien duplicate from another universe was contacting her telepathically, this wasn’t it.

Finally he said, “Sorry, say that again?”

“It’s the Doctor,” she repeated. She stood up, energized now, rushing for an explanation that could get them acting quickly. Wherever the other Doctor was, they couldn’t keep him waiting for long. “Those daydreams I’ve been having – there was a voice – I don’t know why I didn’t recognize sooner. It’s him, he’s been contacting me.” She rifled through her chest of drawers, gesturing with her hands while she fumbled for words. “I talked to him – well, sort of talked, in a…”

She caught sight of the Doctor’s face as she waved about a pair of socks and knickers, and fell silent. Her words hadn’t spurned him to action; he was sitting on their bed, watching her intently, lines still etched in his forehead. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “What did he say, exactly?”

“He said he was trapped. He said I could help him.” She shut the drawer with her hip and changed into the fresh pair of pants. “Then I lost contact. I’ve got to get back in touch, I’ve got to help him.”

The Doctor nodded slowly but didn’t say anything. He reached out and took one of her hands, tugging her closer to the bed and looking her right in the eye. “Rose, I want you to listen to me.” His thumbs rubbed soothing motions on her wrist. “Whoever you heard, whoever you spoke to… I don’t think it was the Doctor.” 

Rose raised her eyebrows. “What?” She slid her hand out of his and moved back to the chest of drawers to pick a bra. “‘Course it is, who else would it be?”

“I don’t know, but—"

“I think I know what you sound like,” she went on. She dropped the t-shirt she’d slept in to the carpet and slid her arms through the straps of her bra. “I hear plenty of that voice every day.”

“Your telepathy is _minimal_ at best,” he said, and Rose felt herself bristling at the tone, like he was explaining something complex to a child. “You could easily be confused, or misled, or—"

“I’m not _stupid_ ,” she said, shooting him a cold stare as she walked to the wardrobe. “Besides, he’s done it before. You did. Before Norway.”

The Doctor was unconvinced. “I know, Rose, but that was different, it was purposeful.”

“So is this! He needs help!” She pulled her shirt off its hanger with more force than was necessary. 

“Why didn’t he contact me, then, hey?” Rose rolled her eyes, but the Doctor pressed on. “I’m a stronger telepath than you. We already have a connection. It would be easier, faster. Why not? Why you?”

“ _Why me_?” Rose was distantly aware that her voice was getting higher and louder. She turned to look at him incredulously as she pulled on her top. “Because he trusts me, is that so hard to believe?”

The Doctor sat back and sighed, reaching instead to ruffle up his hair. “Of course not.”

“And if he’d done it before, with me, and it worked, would it be easier for him to contact me again?”

He hesitated. “Well…”

“Would it?”

“Yes,” he conceded, “it would. You’ve connected before, it’s like… the road’s been cleared. But—"

Feeling confident now, Rose kept going. She tugged on a pair of jeans without breaking eye contact. “Besides, no one in this universe even knows he exists. Who’s gonna impersonate him? You’re the Doctor here.”

He didn’t have an answer to that. Instead he sighed and looked down, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Defeat and concern mingled on his face, and Rose walked over to the bed and placed her hands on his shoulders. 

“Doctor, listen to me.” She waited until he lifted his head, then held his gaze intently. “If he needs my help, I’ve got to try. I’m not stupid. Anything weird happens, I’ll let you know. But right now I need you to trust me, yeah?”

“I _do_ trust you.” But he worried his lip, and Rose could see he was biting back something else. Just as she was about to tell him to spit it out, he said, “It’s whoever you’re hearing that I don’t trust.”

Rose threw up her hands in exasperation. “It’s _you_!” 

He shook his head. "It just... it doesn't sound like me, Rose. Why reach out now? After all this time? That wasn't what he wanted when he left us here."

"I told you," Rose said, "he needs help."

"At what cost?" the Doctor asked. "The walls between worlds are a dangerous thing. He knows that better than anyone. He's putting us in danger. He's putting everything in danger."  
Rose rolled her eyes. “Right, because you don’t _do_ dangerous.”

“Not like this, I don’t.”

Rose snorted. “That is _rubbish_!”

The Doctor’s tone was rising, too, matching hers. “I’m sorry, I just think we need to be a little hesitant about bulldozing universal walls because someone in a dream told you to.”

“Oh, so earlier you were concerned, but now I’m just dreaming?” She folded her arms, then her mouth dropped open as the dots connected. “Oh my God, are you jealous?”

“Of what, a voice in your head?” The disdainful tone did little to change her hypothesis. “No.” 

"Right." She shook her head and turned, heading for the door. "I'll be at Torchwood if you decide to stop being an arse.”


	2. Chapter 2

A week had passed since the Doctor had made contact with her, and Rose still did not know why or what he expected her to do.

The mere thought that he was out there somewhere, waiting for her to help him, had been enough to drive her every waking action. It had been six years since Bad Wolf Bay, but it was surprisingly easy for Rose to fall back into old habits. She remembered, painfully, what it had been like looking for him before the Darkness. She showed up early at Torchwood; spent the day working on the Dimension Cannon; worked late; slept (when she remembered) and ate (when she remembered).

Mickey, though... he’d kept her sane. He was always going round to the nearest curry shop, dropping it on her desk until she couldn't ignore how good it smelt and took a break for a meal. He kept her laughing, too, and he always reminded her that if anyone could find their way back to the Doctor, it would be her.

She wasn't sure if she ever thanked him for that.

She missed him now, fiercely. If anyone would have her back, it would be Mickey. She thought about asking Jake for help, but she was worried that he, like the Doctor, would start looking at her like she was going barmy if she started talking about hearing the voice of the Doctor’s duplicate in her head.

Her computer hummed on her desk, spitting out data, crunching numbers, running logarithms. The Dimension Cannon was charging in the corner, just in case. Trouble was, she didn't know what she was looking _for_. Her only lead was some weird phenomenon in Hyde Park, near the Serpentine. Swans were dying for no reason, leaves on the trees had shrivelled overnight, and people were reporting missing items – picnic baskets, footballs, that sort of thing. It wasn't a lot, but in her time with the Doctor, Rose learned that it was the small details that could be the most important.

At this time of night, the rest of Torchwood was dark and silent, most of its employees having long since gone home. Every couple of hours, Billy the security guard walked past Rose's door. He would glance in at her, quickly check her up and down as if confirming she hadn’t been abducted or possessed by some new alien species, and then move on again. Truthfully, Rose didn't mind. She liked the company. Next time he walked by, she was half tempted to ask him if he thought dying birds in Hyde Park might be some sort of sign.

If only the Doctor would contact her again...

Rose sat down heavily, her gaze drawn to the Dimension Cannon. It seemed so small all of a sudden, so unimportant and ridiculous. How was it possible she thought that could work without the Daleks tearing down the walls between the universes first?

Is that what the Doctor meant, though? Was she supposed to go after him again? And if he did, was it a worth risk if it meant she might not be able to come home?

_Only if I’m not on my own_ , she thought, and it cheered her up a little. She had barely spoken to the Doctor since their row the week before. She left in the mornings before he woke up and got what passed for breakfast from the nearest Costa. They nodded to each other when they crossed paths in hallways at Torchwood, and this morning he had briefly touched her shoulder on the way by, shooting her a wan smile, but he hadn't stopped to chat. At night Rose slept in the office or got home late enough that the Doctor was in bed. A few times, she had been sure that he was still awake, likely waiting for her, but he never said a word, and she would crawl into bed for a few hours of restless sleep before heading back to the office.

Rose couldn't remember the last time they had gone so long without speaking. Truthfully, it was tearing her apart. She had hoped that after he had time to think about it, he would see her side of things and offer to help.

And she could really use his help. Still, even if they weren't speaking, he had to know she wouldn't ever go anywhere without him. She was sure he knew that.

There was a knock on her office door and Rose nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked over, expecting it to be Billy, and felt her heart speed up when she saw the Doctor in the doorway, his face half hidden in the shadows from the hall. She wondered how long he had been standing there.

At first neither of them spoke. Then the Doctor stepped into the room. For the first time, Rose saw how tired he looked. She felt something inside of her twist guiltily.

His eyes swept over the room, from the computer, to the papers lining her desk, and then lingering on the Dimension Cannon on the corner. He tightened his jaw, but only said, "Rose, it's time to come home."

She started to protest. "I can't – I've got... there's this thing, in Hyde Park, weird things are happening. Birds are dying. It could mean something."

It sounded silly even to her own ears.

The Doctor nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. "Okay." He tugged at an ear, and then said. "You can't keep going like this. You'll make yourself ill. You can come back first thing in the morning."

His words were measured, his tone even. He was offering her an olive branch, she realized. He still wasn't onboard with what she was doing, and he wasn't exactly offering to help, but he clearly didn't like their separation anymore than she did.

For a second, tears blurred her vision. She was so tired and so frustrated. It would be so easy to just admit to the Doctor that he was right, that she was being reckless, and that she would stop looking for the other Doctor until they knew for sure what was happening. At least it might help things between them get back to normal.

But she knew she couldn't ever turn away from the Doctor, no matter which version of him was reaching out, and no matter how long it had been.

She pushed her tears away and stood up. The Doctor reached out a hand. After a second, she took it, and his thumb swiped over the back of her hand.

"I am going to come back," Rose said, not looking at him. "First thing in the morning."

He sounded sad. "I know."

She squeezed his hand. "But I'm glad you came to get me. I've missed you."

He was quiet, and then said, "Come on. It's time to go."

\---

Rose dreamed again that night.

_"Rose."_

_The Doctor's disembodied voice seemed to cut through her. Even though some part of her knew she was dreaming, Rose had never felt more alert._

_"Doctor!" she called back, relief in her voice. "You there? Doctor?"_

_"I'm here."_

_She felt like she was even beginning to see him. He was blurry, though, like she was looking behind a screen or up at him from underwater on a bright day. Their connection – or whatever it was – seemed to be getting stronger._

_The Doctor noticed as well. “I’m getting closer,” he murmured, almost to himself. “They thought they could keep me in here.” He laughed, but Rose didn’t see what was so funny. “Punish me. But I always find a way out.”_

_He sounded different. Had he regenerated? It was more than that, though. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it._

_“Who punished you?” Rose said desperately. “Doctor, where are you?”_

_He seemed to sober. “The Void.”_

_Rose gasped. “The Void... but that means....”_

_There was no way out._

_“I fell,” the Doctor murmured. “I’ve been falling for so long, so many years. I just need...” his voice turned harder. “I need you, Rose. Please help me out. Can you do that for me?”_

_Rose’s heart was beating hard. If what he said was true, if he really was stuck in the Void and had been for years...._

_He might have gone mad._

_“I’ll try,” she whispered. “But Doctor, the Void... it’s like hell, yeah?”_

_“It’s worse than that,” said his voice, something harsh in his tone. Then, more calmly, he said, “I’ve found a gap. It leads straight to you world. Find it, Rose. Help me through.”_

_She was shaking. "I want to help, Doctor, I do, but..." she couldn't believe she was saying this.  
"The other you, he said..."_

_"The other me?" the Doctor repeated. He sounded surprised, and then intrigued. "Tell me, what does he think?"_

_Rose swallowed. "He thinks this might put the whole world into danger... maybe everything into danger."_

_He made a noise, almost like a laugh, but Rose could tell he didn't find it funny. "Did he. As sanctimonious as ever, I see." His image flickered and then came back. In a much more sincere voice, he said, “Would I ask you to do this if it was dangerous?”_

_Frankly, knowing how desperate he was, Rose wasn’t sure. But even if it was dangerous, how could she leave him in there? If their positions were reversed, he would do everything to rescue her no matter the cost. Besides, she had done it before hadn't she – found her way between parallel worlds? And the universe was still standing._

_"Of course I'll help," she said. Her voice sounded rough. "Whatever it takes."_

\---

The Doctor sat at the kitchen table with his chin perched in his hands, the end of his nose pressed against his forefingers, and one knee bouncing up and down anxiously.

True to her word, Rose had left bright and early that morning, out the door before the Doctor had even finished showering. Half an hour later he’d got a voicemail from her office: _Forgot my phone, can you bring it when you come in? Thanks!_ It was among the most communication they’d had in days. Now her phone was sitting on their kitchen table, watching him in judgment.

Some part of him wanted to give in and help Rose with what she was doing. It would allow him to keep an eye on what was going on, and more than that, he missed her. Being so distant from each other for even a couple days was rare for them; more than a week barely speaking was unheard of, and if the Doctor thought about it for long his stomach tightened painfully. He resented the rift between them and knew he was the one who had created it.

But he couldn’t shake his distrust of the voice Rose was hearing, and he knew that working with Rose only to undermine her project would do nothing but drive a wedge even further between them. He had to trust that Rose knew what she was doing, and that she wouldn’t allow her compassion to cloud her judgment. If it was the other Doctor she was hearing, only truly dire circumstances could have forced him to reach out to Rose. Was it wise for them to get involved in that? What right did they have to jeopardize their world, their whole universe, to help one man?

If he was honest with himself, though, the Doctor knew those weren’t his only concerns. Even if it was the other Doctor she was hearing – even if they could help him, safely, without putting either universe at risk…

Rose had talked in her sleep again last night. Lying there, listening to her use his name to address someone else, the Doctor had felt very small for the first time in a long time. He’d always known that being with Rose meant understanding that there was another man out there whom she loved as much as she loved him. With time, and with an entire universe separating him from them, the Doctor thought he’d made his peace with it – but confronted now with the very real prospect of Rose and the other Doctor being reunited, he found himself on edge.

Six years had passed on this side of the Void, and the Doctor and his single human heart had the scars to show for it. The other Doctor would look younger now – no new lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, no extra strain on the buttons of his suit. Somewhere he’d even have a TARDIS waiting for him. It would be a tough act to follow; not many people preferred the cover band to the original artist. With no small amount of guilt the Doctor found himself hoping the other man had regenerated.

Rose, he knew, would say he was being silly. She might even be hurt. He could hear the incredulous lecture already: _I’ve been with you for six years. What do you think I’m gonna do? Why don’t you trust me?_ And in many ways she’d be right. They’d been together in this universe now for longer than they’d ever been on the TARDIS. They were closer than ever before, more intimate, and, he hoped, more in love. He _did_ trust her, it was just…

In only a week, Rose had become consumed by the mere ghost of the other Doctor. What might happen if the real thing showed up?

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, then gave himself a shake. Sitting in the kitchen sulking wouldn’t accomplish anything. He could at least _do_ something. He pushed out his chair and picked up Rose’s phone, weighing it in his hand. Rose wouldn’t like it, but if it came down to it, he thought, she would understand.

He hoped.

\---

Enough papers and gadgets littered Rose’s desk that finding a place to set down her second cup of coffee required some strategy. Clearing some space in the rubble, Rose put down the cup, leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. She was sure she’d slept through the night – she’d certainly dreamt enough to prove it – but she still felt exhausted, and no doubt the early start to her day hadn’t helped. Though the last of Torchwood’s day staff were just trickling in, she’d been in her office for nearly two hours now.

Not that she had much to show for it, besides her rising Costa bill and some circles under her eyes. In the full light of day, the lead that had intrigued her last night seemed impossibly silly. What was she planning to do, anyway? Wander around the park and hope the Doctor reached out to her again? Maybe the Doctor – _her_ Doctor – was right. It was dangerous to go around poking holes in the universe.

But inevitably any moment of doubt was met with a memory of the other Doctor’s voice, begging her for help. He’d sounded so desperate, like he was losing himself in the Void. She remembered all too clearly those horrifying seconds when she’d lost her grip on that lever, certain she was falling into the Void herself. It was one of the many things she’d had nightmares about for weeks when she first came here. How could she leave the Doctor there? After all he’d done for her – for both of them – she couldn’t turn her back on him now. She just needed to collect her thoughts, she told herself. She settled back in her chair and let her eyes slip shut.

_“Rose.” The voice sounded almost impatient now. “Rose, can you hear me?”_

_“I’m here.” Again she felt like she was lost in a fog. The Doctor’s voice was clear, but she couldn’t see him, couldn’t even be sure which direction it was coming from. “Doctor, how did this happen? Who did this to you?”_

_He made a noise that sounded like a mix between a scoff and a snort. “Oh, the usual. Righting wrongs. Saving the universe.” He paused, and in a more serious tone added, “There was only one thing I could do.”_

_“You sacrificed yourself,” Rose finished. Of course he would. Of course the Doctor would._

_“Yes I did, but I don’t intend to stay in here,” he said. “You’ll find a way, won’t you? Rose?”_

_His voice was encouraging, but she could hear the desperation in it. Her stomach twisted with guilt. She was failing him._

_“I know, I’m trying. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do.” The desperation had reached her voice now. She felt terrible for making him wait._

_“There should be a rift some place – somewhere near you. Look for somewhere strange things are happening, things appearing or disappearing.”_

_“Hyde Park,” said Rose, with a rush of pride. So she hadn’t been so far off, then. “Yeah, I noticed that.”_

_“Good,” said the Doctor, suddenly brisk and business-like. “It’s a point of weakness in the interdimensional walls,” he went on. “You need to open it for me.”_

_For the first time, Rose hesitated. She thought of her own Doctor, what he would say if she knew he was asking her to do this. She’d barely even scratched the surface of the rift in Hyde Park. What if she opened the Void up and couldn’t close it again? What if her world couldn’t sustain it? If even a point of weakness was enough to kill any bird that was unlucky enough to come across it, what would ripping it open do?_

_“Rose?” the Doctor pressed. “Please, Rose. I need you.”_

_Hearing his pleas almost broke her heart. How could she even hesitate when he was suffering – after saving the world, again? Still, she found herself saying, “What about this world, though, Doctor? Will it be safe?”_

_The Doctor’s reply came quickly and frankly. “Would I ask you if it wasn’t?”_

Rose jolted back to herself with a start, nearly knocking a stack of papers off her desk in the process. So she _had_ been on to something, after all. Hyde Park. Her gaze wandered over to her old Dimension Cannon, lying on the corner of her desk. All she needed to do…

She heard a knock on her open door and jumped, swivelling around. Her Doctor was standing there, an odd expression on his face. She wondered if he’d been standing there long.

“Hi,” she said, smiling broadly. She felt energized by the breakthrough, a concoction of giddiness and nerves in her stomach.

“Hi,” said the Doctor as he walked over, though his returning smile was smaller. “I brought your phone.” He held it out, looking from the mess on her desk and back to her. “Everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine.” She lifted her coffee cup to set her phone down underneath it. “Little bit tired.”

“You left early.” It wasn’t exactly an accusation, but coupled with the concern on his face, it gave Rose a pang of guilt anyway.

“I know.” She lifted one shoulder in a meek apology. “I wanted to beat rush hour.” She smiled again. “Thank you for bringing my phone.”

The Doctor nodded. He was still studying the items on her desk. “Did you have any luck? What was it, Hyde Park?”

In a split second, Rose realized she had to make a choice. She knew she ought to be honest with him; he deserved that much. But she also knew how much he worried, and that his trust in her evidently didn’t extend to faith in the other Doctor. Being honest now would mean needless worry for the Doctor, an argument she didn’t have time for, and more strain on an already tense relationship.

So she shook her head. “No. Didn’t seem so clever in the morning.” She spun her chair from side to side. “Couldn’t find anything behind the rumours anyway. Probably just sick birds.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said, but despite his words she could see relief on his face. Finally he turned away from her desk and leaned back against it, seeming to perk up. “Jake said they got a call last night – a worker found something weird in a quarry, we’re sending out a team to collect it. Just tech, nothing organic, but it might be fun.” He crossed his arms and his ankles and wiggled his eyebrows. “What d’you think? Wanna go?”

Rose’s heart sank. It was the most enthusiasm she’d seen from him in days, and she contemplated saying yes just to keep him happy. But she couldn’t keep the other Doctor waiting any longer, and this was a window of opportunity.

“Oh, I… I can’t, I’m sorry.” She gestured with her head towards her messy desk. “I’ve got a lot to do here.”

The Doctor deflated like a burst balloon, and Rose felt like she’d ripped a candy bar right out of a toddler’s hands. “Right,” he nodded, looking down at the floor. “‘Course.”

“I’m really sorry,” she repeated, hoping he knew how much she meant it. “But you should take Dana, the intern. She loves that stuff. And they all love you ever since you yelled at HR to start paying them.”

The interns’ affection didn’t have much of a cheering effect. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll probably leave early anyway,” she went on. “Go have a nap, you know.”

The Doctor nodded, pushing himself up away from the desk and watching her intently. _He knows I’m lying_ , she thought in a moment of panic, bracing herself for the accusation that was sure to follow.

Instead he kissed her.

Not a quick, chaste office kiss, either – a proper kiss. With one hand bracing the back of her chair, his other hand moved to the back of her neck, cupping her head and guiding it towards him. He slid his knee onto the seat beside her as he leaned over, and Rose snaked her arms behind his back, pulling him closer, rising out of her chair until their bodies were pressed flush together.

She spared only a distant thought for the open door to her office and the busy hallway that lay beyond it before deciding she didn’t care. The Doctor’s hand moved down to her waist and his fingers slid under her blouse, refreshingly cool against her skin. She hitched her leg up, looping it around the back of his. Her hands scrambled for purchase where they could: a fistfull of his hair, the back pocket of his trousers.

_God_ she’d missed him.

The Doctor broke the kiss first, resting his forehead against hers. He let go of her chair and brushed her hair behind her ear, and Rose lowered her foot the floor.

“I should go,” he said softly, though he didn’t move.

“Yeah.” She swallowed and loosened her arms around him while the Doctor’s hand worked to tuck her blouse back into her jeans. “Have fun.”

He pulled back just far enough to look her straight in the eyes. “I’ll see you later.” Then he climbed off her chair and headed for the hallway.

As she watched him go, the cold grip of guilt tightened around her chest. He was nearly to the door by the time she called, “Doctor!” and he turned.

“I love you,” she said, drenching the words in every drop of sincerity she had.

The Doctor smiled, and for the first time in days she thought it actually reached his eyes. Then he turned and walked into the hallway.

\---

“Not ‘wexel’, a _wauxle_ ,” the Doctor repeated, with no small amount of impatience. “A recreational device used in ‘dekir’, the most popular sport across seven galaxies. Perfectly harmless.”

“So it’s a football,” concluded Dana, eyeing the “unusual object” Torchwood had been asked to come collect.

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow. The wauxle was translucent purple, the size and shape of a slightly squashed basketball, and vibrated as it hovered about five feet off the ground: rather unlike any football Dana would have ever seen. The human tendency to filter everything in the universe through their own realm of experience was one he found alternately endearing and exasperating. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but thought better of it. Dana was a captive, clever audience; it wasn’t her fault she wasn’t the audience he’d been hoping for.

“ _Well_ …” He tugged his ear. “Not… I mean…”

Cautiously, Dana reached one slim brown finger toward the wauxle – and it jumped over to the side and up two feet, bouncing her curls in the breeze.

“What’s it doing here, then?” she asked. The wauxle was darting around her head now, moving out of sight every time she turned to look at it.

He shrugged. “Oh, I dunno, probably a game of pick-up. Sneaking onto other planets for a round isn’t unheard of – like kids playing in lots they’re not meant to be on. Humans come along, kids get scared off, leave the wauxle behind.” Despite himself, the Doctor smiled as he watched Dana twist and turn with the wauxle. “When Earth becomes a trading partner with Dalakash in 2145, they borrow wauxle technology and repurpose it to make the first working Snitch.” He grinned. “You know, for Quidditch games.”

Dana stared at him like she couldn’t decide whether or not he was having her on – an expression he’d seen on quite a number of faces over the years. Then, without looking, she reached up and grabbed the wauxle as it hovered behind her head.

“Aha!” Her triumphant smile turned to alarm as the wauxle turned blue and deactivated in her hands. “Did I break it?”

“No, you won.”

With a delighted giggle and a spring in her step, Dana walked off towards the Torchwood SUV, and for a second she reminded him enough of a nineteen-year-old Rose Tyler that it squeezed his heart. The wauxle was exactly the sort of thing Rose loved – harmless and fun and different, a playful token from an alien culture. He’d have liked to share it with her.

As he followed Dana towards the car, the Doctor noticed Pete Tyler, talking to Jake at the side of a second vehicle. It was unusual for Torchwood’s Director to show up to such a mundane task. The Doctor ducked his head, hoping to unnoticed; there were few people he wanted to talk to less when he was in a bad mood than Pete Tyler.

It didn’t work.

“Doctor!” called Pete, and the Doctor mentally cursed. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

The Doctor tried to head him off. “It’s just a football, Pete. I think we can all rest easy tonight.”

Not one to be deterred, Pete fell into step beside the Doctor. “Er – no, actually, it’s not about that. I was just wondering, ah...” He took the Doctor by the crook of the arm and angled them both so they were facing away from Dana and Jake. “Is everything all right with you and Rose?”

The Doctor stared. This was not a conversation he was interested in having with… well, anyone, but particularly not Rose’s father.

“I noticed she’s been spending a lot of time at the office,” Pete went on, and from his tone and the flush in his cheeks, the Doctor got the impression it wasn’t a conversation Pete particularly fancied, either. “And… well… you know, I’ve been there. With Jackie.”

In a week that had seen him and Rose row, it was impressive, the Doctor thought, that this conversation could so quickly rocket towards the top of his “least favourite” list. He sighed. “We’re fine,” he insisted, although he suspected the terseness in his voice wasn’t helping that argument.

Pete looked unconvinced, but equally eager to end the conversation. The Doctor wondered if Jackie had put him up to it. “Well, if there’s anything…”

“We’re fine,” the Doctor repeated. “She’s just been… busy.”

The excuse sounded no less lame when he said it to Pete than it had when Rose had used it earlier, and the Doctor felt a resurgence of the anger and hurt he’d felt then.

Pete’s forehead crinkled. “Busy? With what? It’s been slow lately.”

“Just… things…” With a sigh, the Doctor conceded. “Okay, we may have had a row. But I don’t want to get into it. Rose and I will be fine. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Pete looked relieved, though the Doctor wasn’t sure if the relief came from the assurance his daughter’s relationship was intact or the fact that the conversation was coming to an end. “Right. Good. Glad to hear it.”

His hand made an awkward movement through the air, like he’d gone to clap the Doctor on the shoulder only to think better of it; the Doctor was glad. With a last nod, Pete headed towards the cars.

The Doctor followed a couple metres behind, feeling even grumpier than before. Kissing Rose that morning had felt _good_ , but they’d still wound up spending the day apart, and he wasn’t even sure she’d been honest with him. He felt wildly out of his depth. It seemed like he had no way to compete with the voice she was hearing; it was hard to believe he might stand a chance against the actual person. 

He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, blocking out the guilt he felt as he did so. A few taps on the screen later, a little blue dot was blinking up at him from exactly where he’d hoped it wouldn’t be. The feeling of guilt was drowned out by disappointment.

The Doctor sighed. “Pete?” he called out. “I lied.”

\---

It didn’t take Rose long to find the rift.

Hyde Park was unusually crowded for a weekday morning, stuffed full of people enjoying the sunny weather. But there was one spot they were avoiding. On the edge of the Serpentine, behind a thick plot of trees, a circle of grass was brown and dry, and the bushes were dying, their branches drooping to the ground.

Rose’s shoes crunched over the dead leaves, perspiring under the weight of the bag slung over her arm. It was stuffed with the Dimension Cannon, her laptop, and some of the best monitoring technology Torchwood had to offer, which she had nicked on the way out.

Perks of being the boss’s daughter was never having to ask for permission to sign out the equipment.

She dropped the bag on the ground and then covered her eyes with her hand, looking around her. It was funny, she thought, that people knew to avoid this place. She wondered if it was a base survival instinct coming out, some sort of human sense that something dangerous was in the park, or whether looking at the Void was like looking at a perception filter – she only found it because she knew it was there.

Whichever it was, she was glad that she wouldn’t be interrupted.

Despite the warm temperature, she found herself shivering. Whatever this place was, it was giving her the creeps.

Gripped tightly in Rose’s hand was her last, and most important, piece of technology. Her secret weapon – something not even the brightest minds at Torchwood could piece together or figure out.

The Doctor’s sonic screwdriver.

She’d picked it up that morning before leaving for Torchwood. It hadn’t been a grand plan or anything, but she saw it on the kitchen table and took it on a whim. She hoped to get it back to the Doctor without him ever missing it.

Rose bent down to unzip her bag when suddenly the Doctor’s voice slammed into her.

_“Open the Void, Rose – open it!”_

Rose staggered, almost falling over. The pain in her head was immense. It felt like the Doctor’s voice was ripping through her. She grit her teeth, stumbling to her knees. Her hands clenched around the dead leaves and grass on the ground.

_“GET ME OUT.”_

A wave of nausea swept through Rose. Then as suddenly as the Doctor’s voice came, it left again. Shaking, Rose braced her weight on her hands, trying to catch her breath. For the first time, Rose wondered just what version of the Doctor she would be bringing through the Void. Could anyone live through the Void and come out the same afterwards? Even someone like the Doctor?

Her hand slipped to her pocket, closing over her mobile. She could stop this whole thing now and call her own Doctor. He’d had his suspicions from the start. She would tell him everything, and he would.... _What?_ her mind whispered. _He’d never help. He made himself clear._

Besides, the Doctor didn’t have time for all of that. How could she leave him in there any longer? She couldn’t. However bad he was when he came out, he was still the same person underneath.

“I’m coming, Doctor,” she whispered. “Just hang on.”

Scrambling to stand up, Rose pulled out her laptop, the Dimension Cannon, and Torchwood’s most advance electromagnetic radiation detector. She switched on the radiation detector, and peered at the screen. A small smile tugged at her slips. Void stuff. Everywhere.

She followed the signal to the strongest point. Right to the centre of the clearing.

She set the Dimension Cannon down and then raced back to the laptop, plugging in the radiation detector. Rose’s fingers tapped impatiently at her side as the computer sifted through the readings. Finally it pulled up a frequency for the Dimension Cannon.

She raced back to her bag and pulled out the longest computer cord she’d brought. She plugged it into the laptop and ran back to the Dimension Cannon. There it was, then. Plug that thing on, turn on the sonic screwdriver and – _BAM_ , whatever had been sucked through the Void would get spat out again. She hoped anyway. She didn’t exactly fancy getting sucked towards the Void herself. Once had been enough.

It was time. Rose scrambled back to the edge of the clearing, right where the grass was beginning to brown. She glanced around her, making sure people were still giving the place a wide birth. Satisfied, she pulled out the sonic screwdriver, and turned towards the Dimension Cannon.

She took a deep breath. She’d told the Doctor she loved him. At least that she had told him that. She released the breath. Now or never.

She turned on the sonic screwdriver. It buzzed to life, and she pointed it at the Cannon, turning the setting to 18A.

The effect was immediate. There was a flash of blinding light and then an explosion of energy. The blast threw Rose backwards and she crashed into the tree behind her. Branches and twigs whipped by her face, and her elbow crunched sickeningly into the trunk behind her.

She tried to stand but the force from the Void kept her pinned to the tree. Things were flying out of the Void – footballs, picnic baskets, torn newspapers, a swan, a family of ducks, and – Rose’s heart leapt – a man. He fell from the Void and then landed on the ground, curling into himself.

Rose fumbled for the sonic screwdriver. She turned it on and pointed it at the Dimension Cannon, and the Void seemed to stitch itself up before her very eyes, a tear pulling itself back together. As quickly as it started, the air settled and the clearing was calm.

Rose stumbled to her feet, cradling her sore elbow close to her side. She ran forward, dodging the debris now lining the ground, barely avoiding stepping on the swan. It hissed angrily at her, and flapped its wings menacingly. She ignored it.

She reached the man and dropped to her knees.

“Doc—" she began, and then stopped. It wasn’t him – or rather it _was_ him, but he’d changed. Funny – all those dreams she’d been having with him, and it had never even occurred to her that he might have regenerated.

She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment.

“Doctor,” she forced herself to say. She touched him on the arm, keeping her voice gentle. “Doctor, can you hear me?”

He was shorter than he had been, and his clothes were loose and dirty. She wondered if he had only regenerated recently. His face was unshaven, and his hair—lighter now than she’d ever seen it—was a mess. He was a new man.

_Of course his hair is messy_ , she chided herself. Not like ‘hair care’ would have been top of the list in the Void.

The man groaned and rolled over, clutching his head. “Hell,” he rasped, “I’m in hell.”

“No, Doctor, no,” Rose said, trying to keep her tone light and soothing. “You’re back now. I got you out.”

At first he had no reaction to her words. Despite her calm voice, Rose was anything but. He didn’t seem to recognize her at all.

Then, very slowly, he began to smile. “Grass,” he whispered. He pulled up a fistfull of brown grass and weeds and then released it, watching it flutter to the ground. Then he was on his haunches, moving surprisingly quickly for a man who had just fallen through a rift in time and space. “Air!” he said. He laughed, throwing his head back. “Sky. Blue sky. The sun.” He closed his eyes, drinking it in.

Rose felt herself begin to smile. “Not half bad, yeah?”

The Doctor opened his eyes and then turned his head to look at her. He looked her up and down, but there was no glimmer of recognition, no fondness in his eyes.

“You,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse like he was getting used to it again. “So dependable. So loyal. Like a trained lapdog. You come when the master calls.”

Rose blinked at him and instinctively took a step back. He’d just been through hell and back, she reminded herself. If he was acting funny, he had a good reason. She swallowed and said, “You’ve – you’ve regenerated.”

His smile was back. There was nothing familiar about it, though. Nothing of the Doctor in it. Rose’s heart began to pound. What exactly happened to him in there?

“Wrong,” the man said. “Play again.”

Rose took another step backwards. She slipped her fingers in her pocket, fingers reaching for her mobile. The man was faster than she was, though. She barely saw him move, but he was in front of her, hands gripping her forearms, his face staring down into hers. Rose bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her elbow was aching.

“There’s no call for that, Rose,” he said. “I haven’t even introduced myself yet.”

“You’re not the Doctor.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re not the Doctor.”

The man rolled his eyes. “That sanctimonious idiot? No.” He leaned in closer and Rose felt his breath on her face. She wanted to gag. “But you? You wanted to believe it was him so badly. Humans. You know what I like most about you lot? You’re all so gullible.”

Rose struggled, but the man tightened his grip, fingers digging into her skin. “Let go of me.”

“I can see why he likes you. Always did have a thing for blondes,” the man said. He smiled. “A chav, though, that’s rarer.”

“Go to hell,” Rose spat, and then she brought her knee up with all the force she could muster, connecting between his legs.

The man doubled over, releasing her. Rose started to run and then stopped. The Dimension Cannon. It was still active. Whoever this man was, if he got his hands on that, if he had the power to travel between worlds... it wouldn’t just be her world that was in danger, it would be every world. She couldn’t let that happen. 

She yanked out the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the Dimension Cannon, turning it to the highest frequency she could remember. After a few short seconds, the Dimension Cannon shorted out and then burst into flames, useless. For good measure, Rose dropped the sonic screwdriver on the ground and stomped on it. It broke into two pieces under her foot.

She heard a noise behind her and knew the man had recovered. She felt tears prick her eyes. At least she had done what she could do slow him down. At least now the Doctor had a chance of stopping him even if she....

She didn’t want to think like that.

She turned around to face the man. He cricked his neck and came towards her. The mad smile from before was gone from his face, replaced with something darker, more sinister. She couldn’t believe she had ever thought this person could be the Doctor. She watched him in silence, her panic rising. Why hadn’t she brought a gun with her? How could she have been that trusting – that stupid? At least with a gun she would have had a chance to defend herself.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” the man said, “but I’ve been having a _really_ difficult time of it lately.”

“There’s a Doctor in this world, too,” she found herself saying. “You can do what you want to me. But he’s gonna stop you.”

“I love it when he tries,” the man said. He was only inches from her. Rose leaned back on one leg and whipped the other one around, but he saw her coming this time. He caught her leg and she lost her balance, falling to the ground. Her head snapped back. Her vision darkened, and then the man’s hands pressed up against her temples, his fingers cold and foreign.

Pain seared from where his fingers touched her temples to the back of her head. Her body felt strange; she couldn’t move. She cried out. “What are you doing to me? Stop,” she said. “Please stop. I can’t...”

He pressed his face up against hers. “The companion who looked into the heart of the TARDIS. I’ve been inside your head, Rose. Question is, can you handle what’s in mine?”

The pain pulsed and pulsed from the tips of his fingers to the back of her head. She knew she was crying out, begging with him to stop, but she could no longer make out her own voice.

Then he started yelling and released her. The world swam into view above her, and Rose saw the man’s body twitching and convulsing. Dimly, she heard voices in the background. Someone yelled: “It’s not enough! Hit him again!”

Light flashed above her and struck the man in the chest. He fell over, writhing and twitching on the ground.

Rose struggled to push herself up. Then she heard the Doctor’s voice. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?” 

She had never heard him yell like that before. The Doctor rushed over to the man. He had stopped twitching on the ground, but didn’t put up any resistance when the Doctor grabbed him. The Doctor hauled the man to his feet by his hoodie and shook him. “TELL ME WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO HER RIGHT NOW—"

“Doctor...” Rose found herself saying. She managed to push herself to her feet. She swayed slightly, and she was shaking, but otherwise she felt okay. “Whatever he did – I’m fine now, yeah? You stopped it.”

The Doctor turned, eyes roaming over her face like he was seeing her for the first time. His face filled with relief. He released the man who flopped back to the ground like a ragdoll.

Rose staggered over to the Doctor, almost lost her footing, but he caught her, and then she was in his arms. They stayed like that for a moment, neither of them moving. Rose could feel his heart one heart thumping wildly, but slowly she felt him begin to relax.

He pulled away, his hands coming up to frame her face. “Oh Rose,” he said softly. “Are you alright?”

What did you do? his eyes seemed to be saying.

Rose looked away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Just like the man had said. She had been so easy. So gullible.

“Rose?” he prodded.

“Yeah,” she said tightly. “I’m okay, yeah.”

The Doctor put on his glasses and began inspecting her. She felt his fingers run over her elbow, so gently, and then down her forearms. She hissed out a breath, but didn’t say anything. He took his glasses off again, face grim. 

“Nothing the NHS can’t fix,” he finally concluded.

Rose nodded. Beyond his shoulder she could see her father, Jake, and a number of other Torchwood agents establishing a perimeter. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but how did you know where to find me?”

He considered her question, and then said, “I brought you your phone this morning.”

Rose stared at him. “You added a tracking device.”

“Yup.” There was none of the contrition that she typically expected to go with such a confession. He slipped his glasses back in his pocket and met her eye. “You didn’t go home for a nap.”

In other circumstances, Rose knew this had the makings of a shouting match. Instead she sighed. “Well, since I’m fairly certain you’ve just saved my life, I guess I’m not cross.” She looked uneasily at the unconscious man on the ground and stepped closer to the Doctor. “Doctor, I think he knows you.”

Despite having given her the all-clear, the Doctor was still inspecting her – or maybe avoiding her eyes. “He does,” was all he said, his voice clipped.

In his long life, Rose knew, the Doctor had made plenty of enemies. But this felt different. She could see the tightly-wound anxiety buzzing beneath the Doctor’s skin. “Who is he?”

“His name is the Master.” 

She raised an eyebrow. Hearing that from someone who called himself ‘the Doctor’ didn’t make it sound any less absurd. “What, seriously?”

The Doctor didn’t seem to see any humour in the situation. He glanced at the Torchwood agents behind them, and then signalled to Jake and Jake’s partner, Timothy. 

They hurried over. Jake poked the immobile man on the ground with the tip of his boot. He didn’t stir. “We taking him back to Torchwood with us?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said. “You two, I’m trusting you to keep an eye on him. When he wakes up, he’ll probably start to talk. Don’t answer him. Nobody talks to him but me, understood?”

The two agents looked skeptical, but nodded. They dragged the Master to his feet and pulled his arms behind his back, slapping a pair of handcuffs over his wrists.

Pete hurried up to them. “The perimeter’s secure. We’ve got Dana on the media story.” His worried gaze landed on Rose. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Rose said. “Bit shaken up, but I’m fine.”

Pete turned to the Doctor. “They’ve got the holding cell set up at Torchwood. Will that hold him?”

“Should do. For now anyway.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Of course, his sole purpose from here on out will be finding a way out of that cell and enslaving everyone on this earth.”

“Ah,” said Pete. He paused. “So I take it... that trip to Disney World I booked for Tony’s birthday should be put on hold, then?”

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. “Ah... that would be... yes.”

Rose winced. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“That’s okay,” said Pete, “it’s only been... six years since my last vacation.” He cleared his throat. “Still, I’d feel better if you tracked down that sonic screwdriver of yours, Doctor. I reckon we could do with a little extra Time Lord protection in this case.”

The Doctor searched through his pockets. “It’s weird. I know I had it last night...”

Rose bit her lip. “That was me,” she said. “I nicked it this morning.”

The Doctor stopped his search, and stared like her like that was the last answer he expected. “Well, why didn’t you just ask to borrow it?”

“I don’t know,” Rose answered honestly, face burning. “That’s not all, though, I sort of... broke it.” The Doctor followed her gaze to where the remains of the sonic screwdriver rested, snapped cleanly in two. “I didn’t want _him_ to have it,” Rose said bitterly.

The Doctor looked back at her, mouth half open like he was caught between pride and being offended that she took it in the first place. Before he could say anything, the Master began to stir. His head lolled over, his eyes fluttering open.

“Blimey,” Jake said, tightening his grip, “we hit him with enough electricity to keep a full grown elephant down for hours.”

The Master chuckled, a sinister sound that sent a chill down Rose’s spine and left her wondering how she could ever have mistaken his voice for the Doctor’s. Slowly he lifted his head, looking the Doctor up and down. “Well, look at that.” His lips twisted into a grin. “You know, when she told me there was a Doctor here, I wasn’t sure what to expect.” 

The Doctor said nothing, but took a step forward, angling himself in front of Rose. It was a protective gesture she might have found irritating, had the threat not seemed so personal.

The Master tilted his head, watching them. “I mean, as celebrity lookalikes go, you’re better than the average Vegas Elvis, but something’s not quite right, is it?” Then, in one of the weirder displays Rose had ever seen, he sucked in a long breath through his nose, and made a face. “You’re not the Doctor. You’re _different_.” He breathed in again. Humour and revulsion mingled on his face. “ _Human?_ ”

The two men stared at each other, the Doctor in stony silence. 

“Doctor, what’s—" she began, and then something slammed into her. She staggered backwards, reached for the Doctor’s sleeve, missed, and fell to the ground. Her hands came up to clutch her ears. The noise. It was going to split her apart.

“Rose? _Rose!_ ” She felt the Doctor’s hands on her face, his voice panicky. He turned to look over his shoulder. “What is it? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

Rose clutched at his hands. She tried to speak. Her teeth chattered together. “Drumming,” she whispered. 

The Doctor looked horrified. Somewhere over his shoulder, she could just make out the Master’s face. He was smirking.

Then the noise took over, and everything went black.

\---

“Rose?” The Doctor cradled her face in his hands, pressing two fingers to her neck beneath her jaw. Steady pulse. Good. He tapped her gently on both cheeks, but her unfocused eyes fell shut and stayed that way. “Can you hear me? _Rose_?”

“Call an ambulance!” Pete shouted, then crouched down next to the Doctor. “What happened to her?”

“She’s unconscious. He did something,” the Doctor said. He leaned in to check her breathing, smoothed down her hair and kissed her forehead, then rested her head on the ground. He wasn't sure the Master could have orchestrated a more nightmarish scene if he tried. 

With a deep breath, he sat back on his ankles and pushed his rising panic down. Panic wouldn’t help Rose. If he could just _think_ —

“Doctor?” Pete prodded.

“He put something in her head,” the Doctor managed, “when we found them, he...”

The Doctor trailed off and then pushed Pete out of the way to crouch over Rose’s body. Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers to her temples. Even unconscious, Rose flinched at his touch, and the Doctor felt a stab of guilt. He had to enter her mind. It was the only way.

“It’s me, Rose,” he said quietly. He took a deep breath and sent as much love and reassurance into her mind as he could. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

She seemed to calm, as if she sensed he was there, and the Doctor pressed on, entering into her mind. His psychic abilities weren’t as strong as when he’d been a Time Lord, but he could still pull off a parlour trick or two. Granted, he had never tried this with the Master and half of Torchwood watching him. He had never tried this at _all_ with Rose, really, and had never thought he’d be doing so without asking her permission first.

Still, he didn’t exactly have another choice. He tried to avoid her memories, anything personal, and instead focused on something new, something that wouldn’t belong.

It didn’t take him long to find it. The noise – a pounding, never ending noise... a drumbeat. The Doctor staggered back. A wave of cold fury was slowly engulfing the panic in his veins. He pushed himself to his feet and rounded on the Master. The Doctor loomed over him from only inches away and spoke this time with a deadly calm. “Tell me what you’ve done.”

The Master’s eyes widened in mock fear. “Or... what, exactly? You’ll shoot me?” 

The Doctor didn’t flinch. “You said yourself I’m not the Doctor. How would you know what I might do?”

“Oh, please.” The Master rolled his eyes. “Even if I thought you had it in you – which I don’t – you wouldn’t. Kill me and you’ll never know what’s wrong with her.”

The Doctor grit his teeth. He had no desire to play one of the Master’s games, especially with Rose as a pawn, but he wasn’t sure what other options he had. Finally he said, “Take it out of her.”

“Oh that was convincing. Let me think about it for a second... no.”

The Doctor took a step forward, but he felt Pete’s hand on his elbow. “Doctor,” he whispered. He sounded frightened. “She’s waking up.”

The Doctor tore his gaze away from the Master and looked at Rose. She curled into herself, knees pulled in tight to her chest. She muttered to herself and then let out a high-pitched whining noise before the mumbling began again. Frankly, it was more than a little creepy.

The Doctor sunk to his knees beside her.

Pete looked at him desperately. "Can't you do something?"

"Yes, Doctor," said the Master, " _do_ something. Save your precious human. We're all waiting."

"Shut up," snapped the Doctor. _Think, think, think_. He pressed his fingers to her temples again and entered her mind. The drumming in Rose's head slammed into him, but he ground his teeth together and kept the connection open. Again, he tried to send as much reassurance through their link as he could. It didn't seem to do any good. If anything, her mumbling and crooning got louder, and she twisted her head from side to side, her hands coming up to push him away. The Doctor's fingers slipped and he lost their connection.  
He stared at her, dumbfounded, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know what to do. Rose needed him, and he didn't know what to do.

Behind him the Master was laughing, "Oh no, option A failed. What will you do next, Doctor? How to help her? The seconds are ticking down."

The Doctor felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Jake. "Tranquilizer," he said. He ripped the plastic off the needle with his teeth and then plunged it into Rose's arm.

Rose twitched and then abruptly stopped, her breathing evening out. The Doctor quickly pressed his fingers to her temples again. She didn't struggle against him this time.

The noise, the drumming, pounded from her head and into his. Time was, he would have been able to pull it out of her. Lickity-split. No problemo. Now... he felt himself suffering under the weight of it almost as much as Rose. He almost welcomed it. If he could, he would take all of it into himself, anything to spare her the suffering.

He heard the Master's voice: "Oh, I know what you're thinking, Doctor," he said. "If you could only pull it from her mind and into yours. Go on, try it. I dare you."

The Doctor could tell already that it wouldn't work. The Master had embedded this thing far back into Rose's mind; almost as if he had left a part of himself behind. If the Doctor pulled it out now, he risked pulling out a piece of Rose's mind as well. Or worse.

He took a breath. There was only one thing he could do. Very slowly, with all the focus he could muster, the Doctor carefully build a wall in his mind and then pressed it up against Rose's mind. He imagined the wall circling the noise; containing it. A seal. Keeping the noise out (or in).

Truthfully, it was nothing more than a bandaid over a bullet wound. 

But it would have to do.

He broke his connection with Rose. His hands were shaking. He abruptly stuffed them into his pockets and then met Pete Tyler’s worried gaze.

“Is she...?” Pete said.

The Doctor tried to smile. His mouth formed around the words “fine, yeah” but nothing came out. Finally he forced himself to say, “That should hold it. For now.”

“Okay,” Pete said. He stood up, brushing dirt off his pants. The Doctor watched with some admiration as the man seemed to put himself back together, the desperation from earlier fading from his face. He stood up a little straighter, his gaze steely when it landed on the Master. Once again, he was Pete Tyler, the Vitex millionaire and head of Torchwood.

“We need to get him back to Torchwood,” Pete said. “Jake, pull the van around. Tim, I want this area sealed off and protected, got it? Nobody without Torchwood clearance is going to step foot in this place until we’ve examined every inch of it. We’ll close all of Hyde Park down if we have to.”

The Doctor only half listened. His gaze was fixed on Rose. Right now, she was sleeping peacefully, but how long would that last? There was no telling how long that wall in her head would hold the drumming back.

He reached for her hand, her fingers limp and cold. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t stir. He told himself it was the tranquilizer, but he still found himself willing her eyes to open, for her to smile at him again and tell him everything was going to be okay.

Dimly, he was aware that Torchwood was leading the Master away, and that the Master was yelling after him: “She may be sleeping for now, Doctor, but you and I both know you haven’t stopped it. What happens when she wakes up and realizes you can’t help her? What then?”

“Oh can it,” came Jake’s voice, “I’ve still got that taser. Fancy another round?”

At the moment, none of it seemed to matter. It was only beginning to sink in how close he had come to losing Rose today – how close he _still_ was to losing her. If he had only helped her right from the start, if he’d _been_ there when the Master came through....

 _Could you have stopped him, though, really?_ his mind whispered. The Master was a Time Lord. And he was... what? A 900-year-old human with some cheap psychic parlour tricks and a slightly higher than average intelligence.

Pete came to stand next to him. “Doctor,” he said, voice terse. “Doctor, I need you to go back to Torchwood with the Master.”

“No.” The Doctor swiped his thumb over the back of Rose’s hand. “I’m not leaving her.”

“The paramedics are on their way. They’ll be here any moment.”

“I’m not leaving her,” the Doctor repeated.

Pete sighed heavily. “Yes, you are. That tranq Jake gave her will keep her down for hours. You can still be there when she wakes up.”

“No,” the Doctor said again, but his voice cracked. He clamped his mouth shut, then tried again. “You can’t ask me to leave her.”

“He’s a Time Lord, isn’t he?”

Surprised, the Doctor jerked his head around. “How did you know?”

Pete shrugged. “Lucky guess, I suppose. Truthfully I always thought that ‘last of my kind’ stuff was a bit grandiose.” He paused. “If he’s a Time Lord, that makes him your responsibility.”

“So is Rose,” said the Doctor. “Besides, the Master isn’t my problem anymore. He belongs to another Doctor, another universe.”

“That’s just it, Doctor,” said Pete heavily. “Right here, right now, there is no one else. There’s just you. Can you honestly turn your back on him and walk away?”

The Doctor considered it. He thought about going to the hospital with Rose and, for once in his life, letting Pete, Jake, and the rest of the Torchwood deal with the Master. It didn’t have to be his problem.

His gaze lingered on Rose. That’s just it, though, wasn’t it? It _was_ his problem. The Master had made it deeply personal – he _always_ made it personal. He could take Rose and run as far away as he wanted, but it wouldn’t matter. The Master would come after them. 

And beyond that... Pete was right. There was no one else, no other Time Lords in this universe. He was the only who _knew_ the Master, who could do anything to stop him. And he had to do what he could to get to the bottom of what the Master had put in Rose’s head.

He released Rose’s hand and stood up. “You’ll stay with her until the ambulance gets here?”

“I’ll look after her, Doctor. I promise.”

The Doctor nodded. Then he turned and ran after Jake – and the Master.


	4. Chapter 4

Overtop of Torchwood’s protests, the Doctor climbed into the back of the van with the Master. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted, though he took Jake’s taser before he slammed the door shut.

“You’re not staying with her?” The Master’s tone was filled with insincere pity, his words accompanied by a pout. Despite the fact that his hands were cuffed to the bench behind him, he looked perfectly at ease where he sat, his legs spread and his shoulders back. It was all too clear he was enjoying himself.

The Doctor was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how successful his bid to create chaos had been. He sat as far from the Master as he could, with his back straight and as cold an expression as he could muster. “Okay, you’ve got the captive audience you were hoping for. Start talking. What do you want?”

The Master’s lips twisted into a disdainful smile, his eyes sparking with a madness that may have been due to his time in the Void. Or maybe that was just him. “I want you and I to have a little chat. We’ve got such a lot of catching up to do.”

“I’m not interested.”

That was a lie, and he was sure the Master knew it. There were a hundred questions rotating ceaselessly through the Doctor’s mind, and a whole cocktail of emotions that had been stirred up the instant he’d seen the Master’s face. Perhaps he should have learned by now to expect the Master’s survival against all odds, but the fact remained that he hadn’t expected to see another Time Lord ever again. In another life, the Doctor might even have been relieved.

But with Rose in danger, all that had to be shoved aside. Her safety was paramount. The rest he could deal with later.

True to form, the Master rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on,” he sneered. “You can pretend all you like that your only concern is Blondie but we both know that’s not true. You can’t help it. You’re the curious cat that keeps wandering into its own proverbial death.” Then he shrugged. “I have what I wanted. My freedom.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure becoming Torchwood’s prisoner was high up on your priority list.”

The Master glanced around the van, the twisted smile still playing across his face. “What? This?” he said disdainfully. He rattled his handcuffs, and then closed his eyes, as if savouring his surroundings. “This can’t even compare. Imagine it, Doctor. A place without time, without space. For so long I fell... into nothingness, into darkness. I almost gave up. Welcomed it, even. But there was no ending, no final destination.” He fell silent and when he spoke again, the disdain was back in his voice, “Of course you’d shack up with someone stupid enough to rip open reality just because a voice in her dreams told her to.”

The Doctor’s fingers clutched the taser tighter, but he kept his face stern. “She saved you,” he said bluntly. “But all right, then, tell me. How did you end up in the Void? You were dead. I burnt your body.”

The Master opened his eyes, staring at the Doctor with narrowed eyes as though he was seeing him for the first time. “Is that where we left off?” Slowly the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “You were quite distraught, as I recall. All that sobbing and begging… it was very moving.”

The Doctor’s jaw clenched, and he sat a little straighter in his seat. Like so many other things, memories of everything that had happened on the Valiant were kept in a mental lockbox, shoved as far out of sight as possible, yet they remained as vivid as ever. He recalled exactly how he had felt at the end of that long year, tired and beaten and viciously lonely, watching the last of his people choose to die rather than stay with him. At the time it had been the cruelest thing imaginable.

Life was different now. He no longer needed to latch onto each and every scrap of home that came his way; he had Rose.

 _For now_ , hissed a voice in his head, and he felt sick. 

He kept his voice as steady and as cold as he could. “Things have changed.”

“I can see that,” the Master agreed. He relaxed back against the wall of the van, looking the Doctor up and down. “So what are you, then? You’re not a Time Lord, but you’re not human either.” He smirked. “Let me guess: half-human on your mother’s side?”

Despite everything, the Doctor snorted. “Actually that’s not so far off.” He sighed. He could continue keeping his cards close to his chest for as long as he wanted, but all it would do was waste time Rose might not have. “Biological metacrisis, that’s all you need to know.”

“Really?” The Master looked to the ceiling as he laughed. “So he gets to keep the TARDIS and you get… what? The overbearing self-righteousness and the face of a cartoon rat?” The corners of his mouth twitched with realization. “I bet you can’t even regenerate, can you?” He shook his head. “You sad bastard.” 

The Doctor ignored him. “So what about you? You wanted out of the Void, I get that. But why _here_? You’re not in Kansas anymore.”

The Master shrugged. “The walls were thin. Besides, I needed someone stupid enough help me, and your dearly beloved fit the bill.” A smug expression washed over his face. “And she was so _eager_ , too. Couldn’t _wait_ to help the Doctor. Why do you suppose that was? Surely she’s not disappointed in the version she’s got.”

With his thumb and forefinger the Doctor rubbed his eyes. The Master relished having the upper hand, and the Doctor knew that allowing himself to show any weakness was like pinning a bullseye to his forehead. But he already felt so drained, and if he was going to chase the Master down this latest labyrinth, he at least needed to know where the finish line was.

“Please just tell me, is…” His voice hitched and he swallowed hard. Taking a deep breath, he looked the Master in the eye. “Is she going to die?”

The Master pretended to consider the possibility, then nodded gravely. “Oh, I should think so, yes.” 

It was the answer he’d expected, but still the Doctor felt like the ground was giving way beneath him. Panic hovered at the periphery of his being, ready to surge at any second. Head bowed, he focused on his breathing. He could fix this. There had to be a way. He just had to--

“But don’t worry,” the Master went on, “I’m sure that’s not for some time yet. How long do you reckon it takes a human to go mad?”

The Doctor felt dizzy. “You could help her.”

“I could. But it’s much more fun to watch you try.” The Master’s handcuffs jingled as he leaned forward, as close to the Doctor as he could get. The mirth disappeared from his voice, and when he spoke again it was a low, dark whisper. “What do you think, Doctor? Can you pull the rabbit out of the hat like you always do? Save the girl, be the hero. Or did you lose that in the metacrisis, too?”

The van came to a stop, and the Doctor sprang to his feet and threw open the back doors. 

“Get him to a cell,” he barked to the Torchwood guards flanking the doors, then strode towards the building. His single heart was pounding.

\---

Rose woke with a dull pain in her head and a woozy feeling in her stomach that reminded her of too many Sunday mornings as a teenager after a night out. Her eyes opened for only a second before she squeezed them shut against the fluorescent light overhead and groaned. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake!” 

“Mum?” Rose turned her head towards the sound of the voice and opened one eye slowly. Sure enough, there was her mother, sitting by Rose’s bedside, relief on her face. 

It wasn’t what Rose had been expecting. 

Squinting, Rose looked around the room. In the years she’d been with Torchwood, she’d grown somewhat accustomed to waking up in a hospital bed with only a foggy memory of how she’d ended up there. Though the experience was never pleasant, by the fifth or sixth time, it stopped being quite so alarming. In recent years, it also usually meant waking up to the Doctor’s nervous hovering, and while Rose didn’t like to worry him, it _was_ nice to be doted on, sometimes.

He was nowhere to be found today, though. 

“Where’s the Doctor?” she asked.

Beside her, Jackie huffed. “Oh, sure. Nevermind your old mum, sitting by your bedside for hours, worrying myself sick. No, ‘where’s the Doctor?’ she asks.”

Rose rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and smiled. “Thank you, Mum.”

Jackie nodded. “More like it.” Then she waved a hand. “He’s fine, he’s off at Torchwood. He’ll be here when he can, I’m sure.”

“Right,” said Rose, suddenly feeling silly. Of course he was. Dealing with the Master, no doubt. What had happened, anyway? She could remember that the Master had woken up – he knew the Doctor was human – and then… then all she could remember was a deafening noise before she woke up in the hospital bed. 

What had happened?

Suddenly Jackie’s hand was on her forehead, brushing some of her hair back. “More importantly, how are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Rose batted her mother’s hand away and shrugged. “Not so bad. Bit groggy.” She pushed herself up onto her elbows. “I’ll be fine.”

Jackie smiled for a moment, but it faded, and then she busied herself with straightening out the sheets at the edge of Rose’s bed. Rose watched her for a moment, waiting for her mum to come out with it; when she still hadn’t a moment later, Rose sighed.

“All right, Mum, what is it?”

Jackie looked up from the sheets, hesitated a second longer, then said, “Your father said you were messing around with that Dimension Cannon again.” 

It was Rose’s turn to divert her gaze. She looked down at her hands as she nodded, tugging at the plastic hospital bracelet on her wrist, heat rising in her cheeks. She felt so incredibly _stupid_ looking back, so easily manipulated. What had she been thinking?

“Oh, Rose.” There was disappointment in Jackie’s voice, but sadness too; Rose wasn’t sure which was worse. “Aren’t you happy here? With the Doctor? With us?”

Rose’s throat felt thick. She looked at her mum. “Of course I am.” 

“Then why go poking around with that thing again?” 

Rose swallowed. “I thought I heard the Doctor. The other one. I thought he needed me.” 

Jackie frowned. “You’ve already got a Doctor who needs you, love.” 

“He understands,” Rose said – but truthfully she wasn’t sure if he did. He accepted it, maybe, but what choice did she give him? She tried to imagine how she’d feel if their situations were reversed, if there was another version of her somewhere out there that the Doctor loved as much as he loved her. She imagined him pulling away from her, lying to her, stealing from her to help this other woman, and her heart sank. 

She needed to see him – she needed to explain, to apologize. 

“It doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause I was wrong,” she continued, voice cracking. She closed her eyes tight as they began to sting and hid her face in her hands. “I should have listened, I’m so _stupid_ —"

“Oh! Oh, no, Rose.” Her mother’s arm came around her shoulder, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “Of course you’re not, that’s not what I meant.” Rose leaned into the embrace and Jackie rubbed circles on her back. “I just don’t want you to forget what you have here, that’s all.”

Rose sniffed and nodded, blinking back her tears and resting her head against her mother’s shoulder. Whatever it was the Master was trying to do, Torchwood and the Doctor would sort it, she told herself. She’d make it up to the Doctor and before long life would be back to normal. It wasn’t as bad as it might have been.

“Rose?” came a voice from the doorway.

“Doctor!” Rose sat up immediately, her face splitting into a broad smile. But as the Doctor walked into the room, her smile faded. 

Something was wrong. 

Though he smiled gently when he saw her, she could tell. The set of his shoulders, the look in his eyes, the slow steps he took towards her – all of it spoke to something unsettling, some invisible burden he was trying to hide from her. A lead weight settled in her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

The Doctor didn’t answer. He moved to the other side of her bed, smile still fixed in place. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she answered, then amended, “I mean, hungover. But fine.” 

“They told me it was probably a migraine,” Jackie piped up, shaking her head. “Rubbish doctors.”

But Rose was fixated on the Doctor. “What is it? What’s happened?”

The Doctor’s smile dimmed as he leaned over to kiss her forehead, and she thought she felt his hand trembling as it cupped the back of her head. Just as she was about to insist, he said, “I’ll explain at home, I promise. Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

\---

The taxi ride back to their flat felt like the longest she’d ever taken.

There had always been an unspoken agreement between Torchwood employees that work business was kept out of places like taxis, where information might travel beyond its intended destination. Over the years, she and the Doctor had shared numerous taxis where their conversation was simply put on hold, to be resumed whenever they reached where they were going. It was a fine policy, and one Rose was used to.

But not discussing work usually left room for plenty of other things. She’d had all manner of _other_ discussions in the back of a taxi, and she and the Doctor almost never wanted for conversation. So having him sit beside her now, eerily still and silent, was doing nothing to soothe her ever-increasing worry. 

She’d been discharged from the hospital with little more than a shrug and a script for some Tylenol-3. As best they could tell she’d suffered a severe migraine, possibly brought on by stress. Her elbow was bruised but nothing more, and should heal on its own. Through it all the Doctor stood there, always within arm’s reach, his promise to explain later hanging over her head. 

The worry was making her feel worse than anything else. She looked across the back seat, where the Doctor was resting his head against the window, and walked her fingers over to where his hand was resting. He glanced at her and smiled, turning up his palm so she could loop her fingers through his, and Rose took a deep breath and said, finally, “Are you angry with me?”

A wrinkle appeared on the Doctor’s forehead and he lifted his head off the glass. “What? Why would I be angry?”

Rose bit her lip, looking down at their fingers. “I lied to you. I stole your screwdriver.” She paused. “I _broke_ your screwdriver.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t even know why I did those things, I—"

“Hey.” The Doctor shifted towards her. In the cramped space of the back seat, his knees bumped against hers. “I can build a new screwdriver, yeah?” He waited for her to nod, then carried on. “I’m not angry.” He reached up to brush her cheek with his thumb, and Rose leaned into his hand, grateful for the contact. “The Master has always been… hypnotic. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is,” Rose protested. “I should’ve listened to you, you were right, I—"

“No, I was jealous,” he admitted. The words were laced with a self-hatred Rose sometimes forgot he was capable of. “I was scared that if you found the other Doctor, you’d…” He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish that sentence. He shook his head. “I should have helped you. I should have been there. Maybe I’d have seen something, or….”

Rose leaned forward, kissed him on the cheek, then settled herself against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

The Doctor leaned his head against hers. “Me too.”

Their taxi came to a stop outside their building.

\---

The sun was low in the sky when the Doctor opened the door to their flat. Rose followed him inside, toeing off her shoes. Her hands were shaking, and she wiped them against her jeans, trying for some levity, “God I can’t believe it’s still the same day.”

He didn’t respond. Rose wasn’t even sure he heard her. It did nothing to calm her growing unease. “Alright,” she said. “We’re home now. What’s going on, Doctor?”

He turned to face her, hands sunk into his pockets. She could barely make out his face in the darkness of their flat, but he looked... defeated. Rose’s stomach twisted together. She had seen the Doctor angry before, and sad, and near hopelessness, but she had never seen him like this. Truthfully, it was scaring her half to death.

“Whatever’s happened, we’ll sort it out,” Rose said. Her words felt empty and useless. “We always do, yeah?”

“Yeah,” said the Doctor, after a pause. She felt his hand on her arm. “Come on. Cuppa tea. That’s what we need.”

His voice was strained, but Rose could tell he was trying to hold himself together for her sake. She nodded and followed him into the kitchen. She flicked on the lightswitch and then winced as bright light poured into her eyes. She felt a painful stab in the back of her head and braced her weight on the doorjamb, the world suddenly spinning around her. 

The Doctor was watching her closely. She felt herself blushing under his intense scrutiny, and said, “I’m fine. Just the tail end of that migraine, yeah?”

She forced a smile, but he didn’t smile back. Rose let go of the doorjamb and forced herself to walk to the kitchen table. She sat down heavily, grinding her teeth together. She didn’t want him to see just how badly the pain was bothering her. He was worried enough as it was.

She was relieved when he didn’t say anything, but busied himself with making tea.

“So who is he, Doctor? The Master?”

“He’s a Time Lord,” said the Doctor. The stove rattled when he banged down the kettle, and he pulled open the cupboard, rooting around until he found two tea mugs.

A few weeks ago, Rose would have been shocked by his answer. But seeing what the Master was capable of... it was the only answer that made sense. “He survived the Time War, then?”

“Ran all the way to the end of the universe to escape it,” the Doctor said, and there was something wistful about his voice, as if he was suddenly talking about a long lost friend rather than a bitter enemy. “The Master wasn’t exactly what you would call Gallifrey’s most upstanding citizen. Of course, neither was I.”

Again, Rose detected a hint of fondness in his voice. “You’ve known him a long time?”

“My whole life,” the Doctor said. “We were friends, once. A long time ago. Lifetimes ago.”

The kettle came to life, a loud shriek that pierced the stillness in the kitchen. The Doctor shook himself and then poured the water into the two mugs. He sat down across from Rose, passing her a mug. He cradled his own in his hands, the steam wafting over his face. 

“I always believed there was a part of him that remembered those times we had together. A part of him worth saving.” He set his mug down on the table, and again the defeated expression came back into his eyes. “But he’s maniacal, egotistical... as soon as he escapes from that holding cell at Torchwood – and believe me, he will get out – he’ll tear this whole planet apart. Because he _can_. Because it’s fun. Because he’s a Time Lord and it’s his right. He’s a kid with a magnifying glass and this planet is the ant hill.”

Rose shivered and took a sip of tea, wincing when the liquid burnt the inside of her mouth. “But you’ve stopped him before?”

“Oh loads of times,” he said. “But I was a Time Lord back then. And the Master... we were equals. Now... I’m just a shadow.”

Rose’s heart was pounding. “Don’t say that, Doctor. You’ve never been ‘just’ anything.” She smiled at him, and reached across the table for his hand. “Especially not to me.”

The Doctor stared down at the table where her hand rested on his. If anything, he looked even more defeated. “He did something to you,” he whispered. “After he came out of the Void. He connected with you – your mind – ” 

Rose felt the tingle of a memory. She pulled her hand from the Doctor and touched her temple. She felt another stab of pain in the back of her head and dropped her hand back down in her lap. She felt vulnerable all of sudden, exposed. It was bad enough knowing that the Master had spent weeks _using_ her, pretending to be the Doctor, but this felt worse. He had gone through her whole head and picked it apart without her knowledge or permission. 

The Doctor continued in a strained, robotic voice. “He left a piece of himself behind.”

“What sort of piece?”

“Last time we met he said he heard this... this sort of drumming. Like it it’s what drove him mad.”

“And that’s what he put inside of me?” Rose said. She reached up to touch her head. It was still _aching_ , but there was no drumming. “But I don’t hear anything.”

“That was me,” said the Doctor. “I put up a wall in your head... sort of a stop gag to keep the worst of it at bay.”

Rose sagged with relief. “So you stopped it?” 

He shook his head. “No. It’s temporary. It might not even be that.” The Doctor scrubbed his hands over his face. “I tried to take it out of you, Rose. I couldn’t. Not without killing you in the process. Any moment now, you’ll start hearing it again. The drumming.”

“So I’ll fight it,” said Rose. 

He still wasn’t looking at her. “You can’t fight a bomb. And when it explodes....”

“I die,” Rose whispered. Her mouth was dry, but she felt weirdly calm. A noise in her head? A drumming that could kill her? It sounded crazy, even for them. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

He flinched. “First it will drive you mad.”

“Lovely,” she said, “so first I lose my mind and then I die?” 

The Doctor opened his mouth and then closed it again like he didn’t know how to respond. Finally, in a tight voice, he said, “Essentially yes.”

“So how do we stop it?”

“We can’t.”

“Come on,” she pressed, “you’ve got an idea, and we’ll figure it out, just like we’ve always done.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Only a Time Lord can stop it.”

“Good job I’ve got one sitting across from me, then,” Rose said.

Right away Rose could tell she said the wrong thing. The Doctor’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He abruptly stood up, placed his tea mug in the sink, and then left the kitchen without another word.

Rose stared after him, dumbfounded. “Doctor?” she called. Oh he was _not_ going to drop something like that on her and then walk away. She pushed herself to her feet and then chased after him. The pain in her head pulsed with every move she took, but she forced herself on, blinking the pain away.

She rounded the corner to their bedroom in time to see the Doctor kick the dresser with curve of his foot. The dresser wobbled, and the Doctor cursed, now hopping on one foot.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Rose demanded. “I get it, Doctor. It’s bad, but we’ll find a way, we always do—"

“No we won’t,” the Doctor interrupted. He hopped over to the bed and then sat down, wincing as he stretched out his foot. “There’s nothing I can do. Don’t you see that?” His voice was bitter when he added. “I’m not _him_.”

“Who? The Master?”

He looked frustrated. “The other me. The... the Doctor.” His voice softened, and he looked away when he said. “Right now I’m just a clone.”

Rose stared at him, momentarily speechless. Never in the six years they’d been together had she heard him talk like this. She knew a part of him worried she still cared about the other Doctor, loved him even, but he’d never questioned himself before, never seemed to question whether he was the real thing or not. 

“That’s not true,” Rose said. She sat down next to him. “So you can’t go around playing with people’s minds anymore. So what. Maybe the world is better off.” Rose reached for his hand, and was relieved when he didn’t pull away. “Besides, I don’t want that Doctor. I want _you_.”

The Doctor shifted his body so he was looking at her. Some of the desperation was gone from his face, and she felt like he was drinking her in, his stare full of love and just a bit of awe. He reached out to touch her cheek, and then his fingers skimmed into her hair, brushing against the back of her neck.

Rose closed her eyes. His touch felt good.

“How’s the head?” his voice was quiet, but he sounded more assured, more himself again.

“It hurts a bit, I suppose,” Rose said. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

“If it gets worse – _when_ it gets worse, I want you to tell me immediately.”

Rose opened her eyes, the Doctor’s face swimming into view. He was close enough that she could see the wrinkles on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. She wondered how long those had been there. Were they new? Or had she just never noticed?

“Rose,” he said, “I mean it.”

Rose leaned in closer to him until their foreheads were touching. The Doctor’s hand slid down her back. “Yeah, okay,” she said softly, “I will, yeah.”

She could feel the Doctor’s breath on her cheek and his hand was warm against her back. On instinct, she moved in closer to him, tilting her head up until her lips touched his. He didn’t react at first, but then he kissed her back, the hand on her back pressing her closer to him.

He broke their kiss with something that sounded like a sigh. “Rose, are you—"

“Shut up,” she said. She shifted her weight to her knees so that she was slightly taller than him on the bed. She leaned over him, arms going around his neck. “I’m fine, yeah? And I’ve missed you. I’ve missed _this_.”

“Me, too,” he said, but he sounded sad.

She nuzzled his nose with her own and then brushed her lips against his, kissing him again. The Doctor’s hands dipped under her shirt, fingers tracing along their back. He broke their kiss, shifting so he could stare into her eyes. “I love you.”

Rose’s stomach fluttered. “I love you too,” she said, “but can we get on with it?”

He gave her the ghost of something that was almost a smirk. He didn’t need anymore encouragement after that. They undressed quickly, their movements almost fumbled and harried. Rose wasn’t usually so impatient, but she wanted to feel him against her again. Skin on skin. 

There wasn’t much foreplay, and it wasn’t their most elegant or even most satisfying joining. She climaxed quickly, and it wasn’t long before the Doctor followed. 

Afterwards, he held her a little too tightly, his breath a little too ragged against the back of her neck. It was too hot and he was too close but she didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Rose shifted until she felt some cooler air on her skin. 

Despite the Doctor’s dire warnings, she felt fine. Her mind was quiet; the pain was gone. She squeezed her eyes, sleep beckoning. They would sort it out in the morning. They always did.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her pale and tired face stared back at her. She reached up and touched the dark circles under her eyes with the pads of her fingers. It really did look like she’d barely slept in weeks.

It was the weird hours she’d been working, she told herself, and the early morning she’d had. Besides, she never slept well when things with the Doctor were rough. It would be better now that they’d made up. They’d got an hour or two of sleep after the sex, and then they’d ordered take away, and already Rose felt a little refreshed.

“Think I’m gonna shower,” she called out to the Doctor, idly hoping he might decide to join her, when something caught her eye. It was a bug, on the floor, next to the partially opened crack in the door. Rose took a step closer and then stopped abruptly. It was a _cockroach._

She hated cockroaches.They used to get them sometimes, back on the Powell Estates. She was eight-years-old when she discovered their worst infestation. It had been late at night. Mum was in bed and Rose got up because she had to pee. She stepped on something on the way to the toilet, something that was sharp and then gooey underneath her toes. She’d flipped on the lightswitch and then she saw them – cockroaches, all over the kitchen, on the counter, on the table. Jackie came running when Rose started to scream. 

She pushed the memory away and turned back to the sink. She froze, hand going to her mouth to muffle her gasp. There were two more of them. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and whirled around, gaze on the bathtub. They were in the bathtub. On the walls. She counted – twelve, fifteen, twenty – she lost track. 

There was a noise behind her, a _ding_ like water dripping from a leaky tap. It was the sink – they were coming in through the tap. Cockroach after cockroach, a steady stream of them, dropping from the tap and landing in the sink. They crawled over one another, fighting for space before reaching the edges of the sink. They fell over the sides, landing on the floor with a dull plop.

Rose expelled a ragged breath, her stomach heaving with revulsion. She took a step backwards, then another. Her foot landed on something – sharp, uncomfortable. She looked down, stomach lurching. She’d stepped on one; its guts and bits of its skeleton were stuck between her toes. Her heart was pounding and she scrambled backwards, but there was nowhere to go. She whipped around in a circle. They were everywhere – pouring out of the taps, multiplying. Coming for her. 

Then Rose did something she hadn’t done in a very long time. She started screaming.

The door to the washroom banged open and the Doctor skidded inside. “What is it? What’s going on? Rose?”

She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams, and shook her head at him. He was covered with them. They were on his shoulders, clinging to the shirt on his arms, climbing up his chest, running over her feet. Rose backed up, stepping on more of them – _squish, squish._

“Rose,” the Doctor’s voice was low, soothing. She didn’t understand. How could he be so calm? Couldn’t he see them? “Whatever you’re seeing, Rose, it’s not real. It’s in your head.”

Her breath hitched, but his words got through to her. The Master, she thought. He’d done this to her. That thing, in her head.

“Cockroaches,” she finally said in a strangled voice. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see them still coming in, still pouring in from the tap. “Everywhere. They’re on you.”

“No they’re not.” He took a step closer to her. “There’s nothing here. It’s not real.”

“It is,” she said. She felt something wet on her cheeks. She was beginning to cry. “Please make it stop.”

“I will,” he said gently. “Close your eyes.”

She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Close your eyes. Do it for me.”

She was so frightened, but she followed his instructions. Her fingers clenched at her sides, her whole body felt like it was stretched tight. She couldn’t see them, but she felt them coming towards her. And she was just standing there, her eyes closed, not fighting back, not running.

“Listen to me, Rose, it’s in your head, that’s all. It’s not real. It’s just in your head.”

Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. “It feels real,” she said hoarsely.

“I know. I’m going to come closer, okay? It’s just me, Rose.There’s nothing else in here with us.”

She nodded. As reluctant as she had been to close her eyes, she understood why he asked her to do it. She couldn’t hear them anymore now that she wasn’t looking at them, and she wiggled her toes, which suddenly felt clean and dry.

She sensed the Doctor in front of her. “I have to go back in your mind,” he said. “See if I can rejig that wall a bit. Is that okay?”

“Okay.”

She couldn’t stop her flinch when he touched her temples – stirring a memory of another man doing this to her, of the pain it brought her when he did. But this was the Doctor. He would never hurt her. Then, suddenly, she felt him. It wasn’t the strong presence she was expecting, but a gentle warmth nudging the back of her mind. She felt herself relaxing, her hands at her side unclenching.

The Doctor pulled his hands away and Rose opened her eyes. She looked at him, and then around the bathroom. The cockroaches were gone.

She sagged with relief, and the Doctor stepped forward, gathering her up in his arms. She clung to him, her heart still pounding in her ears. She was trembling.

“Was that it?” she said. “Is it starting?”

“Yes,” he said. “Rose, I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She pressed her nose to his neck, breathed him in. She was so scared all of a sudden. “I don’t hear any drumming.”

“The wall I put in your mind... it’s still there.” He paused. “It’s weaker, though. I don’t think... I don’t think it will hold for much longer.”

Rose’s voice sounded small. “Can’t you do anything?”

“I’ve done what I can,” he said, and the defeated tone was back in his voice. “I told you, only a proper Time Lord can take this out of you.”

Rose’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, and she felt burning nausea in the back of her throat. She pushed the Doctor away and then stumbled to the toilet, falling to her knees a second before she threw up. 

Above her, the Doctor rummaged around the sink, and turned the water on. A second later, he flushed the toilet, and then dropped to his knees beside her, holding a damp cloth in his hands. 

She took the cloth gratefully, wiping her hands and then her face. It was beginning to sink in, a little bit at a time. This thing that the Master had put in her head, it was going to take over. She was going to lose her mind – and then she would die.

Rose couldn’t look at him when she said, “How long have I got?”

The Doctor touched her on the arm. “I honestly don’t know.”

She clenched the washcloth in both hands. “I’ll have to tell my mum... Tony. It’s his birthday next week. Eleven years old. What a rubbish present.”

She started to cry, and the Doctor closed the distance between them, his arms going around her. “Oh Rose,” he said softly, in her ear.

She cried harder, clutching him to her. “Don’t leave me,” she found herself saying, “promise me you won’t...” she could barely get the last words out, “that you won’t run away.”

The Doctor tensed, and he pulled away enough to meet her gaze. He reached out and brushed at her tears with his thumb. His face was solemn. “I would never.”

She caught his hand, held it tight. He didn’t exactly have the greatest track record. She couldn’t help but remember another conversation, another point in time. _You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone you...._

“Promise me, Doctor,” she found herself saying, “just... promise me you’ll be with me until... until...” 

Her breathing hitched. The Doctor squeezed her hand. “Rose Tyler, there is nothing in the universe that could keep me away from you.”

She nodded. A simple promise would have done it, but she would take that, too. 

Something else seemed to occur to him. He dropped her hand, suddenly looking lost in thought. “You know, there is one thing we could do.”

Through her tears, Rose felt a flare of hope. She knew he would come up with something. She _knew_ it. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“We need a Time Lord,” he said. “And we happen to have one at Torchwood. Locked up and waiting for us.”

“The Master? But he did this to me. Why on earth would he help us?”

The Doctor looked away from her. His next words chilled her. “Because I’ll make it worth his while.”

\---

Having the shadow of a plan filled the Doctor with a single-minded purposefulness. It was something Rose had witnessed many times before and usually filled her with confidence; when the Doctor was like this, she couldn’t imagine much that could stand in his way. This time, though, it felt different. 

He’d held Rose until her tears had dried and her heart rate evened out, and then he’d swept into the bedroom, methodically getting dressed as though he were preparing for battle. Rose stood in the doorway, feeling light-headed and a little nauseated as she watched him. The steely determination emanating from him was like a cold breeze that set her hair on end. 

The calm before the oncoming storm, indeed.

“You should stay here,” the Doctor said bluntly, searching for a shirt to go with the dark trousers he’d pulled on. “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“What?” She couldn’t keep the defensiveness out of her voice – nor would she have wanted to. “No way. I’m going with you.”

There was a flicker of nerves across the Doctor’s expression. “I don’t want him near you.” It was a grudging admission, mumbled quietly. 

“It’s a bit late for that,” she said, but regretted it when she saw the twitch in the Doctor’s face. She decided to switch tracks. “What would the Master even want from us?” Already she dreaded the answer. 

The Doctor shrugged on a crisp blue shirt and began fastening the buttons. “Well, historically, regenerations, or the TARDIS.” He adjusted his collar. “But I’m fresh out of both, so we’ll have to get creative.”

The prospect of “getting creative” did nothing to comfort Rose. Dozens of half-formed scenarios flickered in her mind, all equally dismal. The ransom for her health might be a much higher cost than they could pay, but the Doctor looked as though he was determined to come to an agreement. How were they going to bargain with a madman who held all the cards?

“What if he wants to hurt you?” She wasn’t about to trade the Doctor’s wellbeing for her own.

The Doctor laughed without any mirth. “He is hurting me.”

Rose’s stomach lurched.

“If what we need is a Time Lord…”

“I thought about it,” said the Doctor, heading her off with a wave of his hand. “Even if we got back to the other universe in time, it could take days to track down the TARDIS.” His voice darkened even as he kept his manner brusque and focused. “We don’t know how long you’ve got.” 

Rose wiped her clammy palms on her jeans. She wasn’t sure the Master was the safer gamble, but all-too-real memory of a bathroom filled with cockroaches still lingered in her mind and she decided not to protest. 

“Doctor…” she began, pausing to take a deep breath. “I need you to promise me something.”

She couldn’t tell whether his preoccupation with selecting a tie was genuine or put-on. He didn’t look at her. “What is it?”

Folding her arms and lifting her chin, Rose straightened up in the doorway, steeling herself for the objection she knew would come. “Whatever it is he wants, it’s my choice, yeah? I decide if we go through with it or not.”

The Doctor froze, the first loop of his tie half-formed around his neck. In profile she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and then he turned to face her, some of his icy determination melting away to reveal a vulnerability that frightened her just as much. “Rose…” he began, but seemed unable to finish. 

He didn’t need to. She could read his objections in his expression alone, and knew that he was scared: scared to relinquish the small amount of control that had brought him some calm, scared she might be too self-sacrificing to go through with it, scared she wouldn’t value her own life highly enough, scared she wouldn’t be willing to go as far as he was to protect her.

He was right – and that was precisely why she needed the promise. 

“It’s my life.” Her voice was soft but uncompromising. “If I’m gonna be a bargaining chip, I’ve gotta have a say. I don’t like it, we don’t do it. Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” He had the defeated look of someone who wanted to fight but knew they had already lost. He dropped his eyes and nodded. “Okay.” 

His pitiful look twisted her heart, and she crossed the room to him, reaching up and taking the loose ends of his tie. His fingers brushed over hers and then fell away. “Besides,” she went on, quieter this time, gentler. “This way, whatever happens, it’s not your fault.” She pulled the knot up to his throat, running the cool silk between her fingers. “It’s my choice.”

The Doctor made a noise in the back of his throat that was perhaps intended as agreement but sounded more like a whimper. It was a futile offering, she knew – the Doctor would shoulder any guilt there was to be had, regardless of whether or not he had claim to it. If the Master’s terms were too steep – if she had to say no – if she died… she knew it would be cold comfort to the Doctor that the decision hadn’t been his.

But it was the best she could do. She straightened his tie, folded his collar and pressed a kiss to his throat, now scratchy with a day’s worth of stubble. Then she stepped around him, picked up his jacket and held it out for him. “Come on, let’s go.”

\---

London was lit up by the time they reached Torchwood. The looming buildings around Canary Wharf shimmered in the darkness, filling Rose with a familiar but since forgotten sense of foreboding. In the months after she’d first arrived at this universe, coming to work for Torchwood in the very copy of the building that had wrenched her from the Doctor had been incredibly difficult. She had avoided one particular floor for as long as she could justify, and in truth it was only after years spent going in and out of this building with the Doctor by her side that it had come to feel like any other place.

Now, though, it seemed as ominous as ever.

She gazed up at its impressive silhouette as she stepped out of the taxi and onto the pavement. Ever since that horrible vision back at her flat she felt like she could hear a clock ticking down, bringing her closer and closer to a fate she could scarcely stand to contemplate. Though it was a warm summer night, she rubbed the tops of her arms as protection against an imagined chill.

She heard the Doctor’s taxi door shut behind her – and then, seconds later, the horrible screech of tires and a dull bang that hollowed out her stomach. She spun around on instinct as fast as she could, then froze, momentarily paralyzed by horror.

A car was stopped in the middle of the street, its hood dented. Lying there, a couple feet away on the tarmac, was the Doctor. The impact had thrown him onto his side. One of his legs was twisted in an unnatural angle behind him. Under his head, beneath his temple, a dark red river was beginning to bloom.

For a split second, Rose was transported to another London street, in a different universe, nearly thirty years earlier, watching her father’s life come to its brutal, unceremonious end right before her eyes. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing to her ears. _Not again,_ she thought wildly over the frantic sound of her heart, _please not again_.

“ _Doctor!_ ” she cried, and ran into the street.

But something – some _one_ – grabbed her around the waist, holding her back, pulling her up onto the pavement. She struggled furiously against their grip, scratching at their hands, jabbing her elbows backwards, driving her heel down onto their foot. In the street the Doctor was lying still; the halo of red under his head was expanding. From this distance she couldn’t even see if he was breathing. 

“Let me go!” she demanded, clawing again at the hands restraining her. “He needs help! I’ve got to get to him! _Doctor!_ ” Her elbow connected with something fleshy, but the grip around her waist remained steadfast and strong. “Please,” she gasped, breathless with fear and exertion, “I’ve got to help him, I…”

“...calm down,” said a voice in her ear, but Rose shook her head, still struggling. She remembered the first time she’d seen her father die, how she’d stood at the side of the road and watched, useless, unable even to be there while he died. Unshed tears burned her eyes and caught in her throat. She had to get to the Doctor.

“I have to… he needs…” 

“Rose,” came the voice again, low and soothing in her ear. In her panic and heartbreak she found herself drawn to it. “It’s okay.”

_No it’s not_ , she meant to say, but a sob came out instead. She pushed at the hands again, but she could feel herself flagging. Her knees felt weak, her vision blurred. 

“Listen to me,” the voice continued, still infuriatingly calm. “Rose, it’s not real.”

The whole world seemed to pitch on its axis at the words. The Doctor’s body, lifeless in the middle of the road, swam like a mirage behind her tears. 

“Close your eyes,” the voice commanded gently.

With gargantuan effort, Rose obeyed.

“It’s okay, Rose,” said the voice – and suddenly she realized it was the Doctor’s voice at her ear, the Doctor’s breath tickling the back of her neck. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Reluctantly, still terrified of what she might see, she opened one eye, then the other. The body in the road and the car which had hit it had disappeared; instead there was a car parked in the lane closest to her, its driver standing with his door open, staring at her with a mixture of anger and fright. 

Rose sagged back against the Doctor’s chest as a wave of relief, exhaustion and anxiety rolled over her all at once. She was trembling all over, her breathing still ragged. Were it not for the Doctor’s strong grip around her waist, she was sure she’d have fallen over. Distantly, as though she was miles away, she could hear the Doctor and the driver having an argument.

She closed her eyes again, trying to concentrate on nothing but the Doctor, the weight of his arms around her, the heat of his chest against her back, the sound of his voice above her head. He’s fine, she told herself over and over, fighting to regain her composure and stop the tears still trickling from her eyes. _He’s fine_. Thank God.

“Rose.” The Doctor’s voice was gentle in her ear. If her outburst had frightened him – and she suspected it had – he was doing a very good job of hiding it. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

He guided her into Torchwood with both hands on her waist, and Rose was grateful for the support. They walked to the first bench in the lobby and sat down, facing each other. Now that she was looking at him, under the bright fluorescent lights of the lobby, she could see his own anxiety bubbling under the veneer of composure he’d erected for her benefit. He reached out to take her hands, and her gaze moved downwards. Bright red lines crisscrossed on the back of his hands, dotted here and there by tiny pinpricks of blood.

“I hurt you,” she whispered, aghast.

The Doctor started to shake his head. “No you didn’t—"

“You’re bleeding,” she said, remembering with shame how desperately she’d struggled.

“Rose, I’m fine.”

The small drops of blood on the back of his hand haunted her almost as much as the blood she’d thought she’d seen pooling on the street. In her terror and her confusion, she’d hurt him as he tried to help her. She thought of the angry car driver and realized she must have run into the road. Was that what she was going to be like, now? Dangerous to herself, to others?

“I can’t tell what’s real anymore.” The confession was barely audible, her throat clogged with rising panic and tears she was sick of crying. “I thought I saw…”

“I know,” said the Doctor. 

He opened his arms in invitation and she took it gratefully, burying her face in the warm crook of his neck. The Doctor’s fingers traced soothing patterns across her shoulder blades and down her back, and slowly Rose’s breathing evened out, her heart slowing to its normal speed. But even as she felt herself begin to calm down, the cold weight in her stomach hadn’t budged.

She slid her hand up his chest, resting it where she could feel the reassuring rhythm of his heart. 

“Doctor,” she murmured, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he repeated, and though he didn’t say it, she thought she heard a _me too_ at the end of it.


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor clung tightly to Rose's hand as they weaved their way through Torchwood, making their way down to the basement level. The basement housed all of Torchwood's most advanced weapons, as well as any artefacts considered too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands. It was also the closest thing Torchwood had to a jail. Any alien life forms considered a threat to the public were locked up down here.

Only a handful of people had security clearance high enough to even enter the basement: Pete Tyler, Rose Tyler, Jake and Mickey, back in the day. The Doctor, too, if he wanted it – not that "security clearance" had never kept the Doctor out of anything. Normally the Doctor went out of his way to avoid the place. His eyes darkened anytime anyone even mentioned the basement – or worse, locked something up in it.

Now, though, the Doctor barely seemed to register where they were headed as Rose punched in her security clearance. He was still gripping her hand tightly, but he wasn't saying anything; his entire being seemed focused on getting to the Master as soon as possible.

The heavy security door shut behind them. The Doctor glanced back at her and then, by unspoken agreement, dropped her hand. He angled his body in front of hers, and she followed behind him as they passed mostly empty cells. She saw the Doctor’s shoulders tense as they passed one or two cells housing aliens that had been the subject of bitter arguments with Pete in the past, but he didn’t break his stride. 

Finally at the end of the corridor, the Doctor stopped, holding out a hand to keep Rose back. The Master’s cell was fortified by two doors. The first was made from steel half a foot thick and electrified from the inside. The second was located inside the cell, and made from glass, constructed to allow Torchwood scientists the ability to observe whatever was inside from a safe distance. 

From the outside, the cell was meant to be sound proof, the occupant blind to whatever was happening outside of it. Somehow though, from the way the Doctor clenched his jaw, Rose bet the Master knew full well they were there.

"There's a radio with video—" Rose began but she needn't have bothered. The Doctor was already punching in the security code to open the doors.

“Stay back,” he said as the steel doors slid open.

The cell was tiny and cramped. There was a bed pushed up against one side; a single toilet next to it. The Master was on his feet, arms folded casually over his chest. He glanced up as the door opened, lips pulled up like he was trying to be casual but couldn’t hide how smug he felt.

“Master,” the Doctor bit out.

“Doctor,” the Master replied, his lips now turning into a sneer, “if that’s even what you call yourself now.”

“Oh, I’m still the same man,” said the Doctor. He took a step closer. “Slightly different physiology, but same essential template.”

The Master opened his mouth widely and then yawned exaggeratedly behind his hand. “I do so love your little lectures.”

“I’m telling you this because I want you to understand one thing. When it comes to you and me, I will always win.”

The Master didn’t seem the least bit perturbed. “Spare me, Doctor, we both know why you’re really here.” His eyes flicked to Rose. “You’ve come to ask for my help.”

Rose glared at him, the words _don’t flatter yourself_ hovering on the tip of her tongue. But she pressed her lips together. She had to give the Doctor a chance to try.

“Whatever you want, the reason you’re here... that’s between you and me,” said the Doctor. “Not Rose. Whatever you’ve done to her, undo it.”

The Master looked so much like he was enjoying himself that Rose couldn’t help but think this whole thing was completely useless. “Say ‘please.’”

The Doctor didn’t change his quiet tone. “Please.”

“No,” said the Master. “But I do like it when you beg.”

Rose felt a wave of disgust. He might be the only person in their universe who could help her, but she wasn’t going to spend the time she had left watching him humiliate the Doctor. 

“Forget it. He’s not going to help us. We’ll find another way, yeah?” She spared another glance at the Master, putting as much of her disgust into her gaze as she could. “And he can stay down here and rot.”

“There is no other way, you stupid girl,” the Master said impatiently. “And if there was, he would have found it by now, wouldn’t you have, Doctor?”

The Doctor didn’t respond. Rose moved to his side, sliding her hand through his. “Doctor,” she pressed again, trying to tug him away, “this isn’t worth it—"

“Have the hallucinations started yet?” the Master said. Rose froze, and the Doctor gripped her hand more tightly. “Oh, they have, haven’t they? Nasty business, isn’t it, a Time Lord consciousness inside of a human brain.” The Master sat down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed in front of him. He rested his hands casually on his thighs and leaned forward. “You can’t tell me you’re not a little curious, though, Doctor. I mean, think about it. If the hallucinations comes first, what’s next? Have you ever actually seen a human brain liquify from the inside out? Will the migraines come next or the internal bleeding? I can’t wait to see it.”

The Doctor’s grip on Rose’s hand was becoming painful. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “What do you want?”

The Master sat up a little straighter. “I want you to watch her suffer.”

“No, that’s too simple,” said the Doctor. Somewhat to Rose’s relief, he released his grip on her hand. He moved further into the room, hands now shoved in his pockets, pensive look on his face. “If that’s all you wanted, why keep us down here? Why keep taunting us? Rose is right. We could turn around right now and leave you down here forever. I know you, Master. I know that’s the last thing you want.” The Doctor paused in front of the glass. “I can help you. You could build a life here. We could live peacefully, you and I. Would that be so bad? After all this time?”

The Master looked up, his face dark. “Live a life – _here_? Like a _human_?” he spat. “Trapped, on Earth, for the rest of my life?”

“There are worse places to be.”

The Master’s face changed to something more desperate, almost pitiful. “Don’t you feel her loss, Doctor? Doesn’t it burn at you, every day? How can you stand it? Or are you too human for that?”

The Doctor swallowed and took a step back. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, but his voice was strained. 

“The TARDIS,” said the Master. He watched the Doctor carefully. “Don’t tell me that it doesn’t sting – doesn’t _burn_ that he took it from you and then dumped you here alone. Don’t tell me you don’t feel the loss of it every day of your existence. It must be so quiet inside your head.”

Rose watched a strange mix of emotions play over the Doctor’s face. As much as he was trying to hide it, she could tell the Master had struck a nerve. She felt a twinge of guilt. They’d talked about it once or twice before, of course, the TARDIS. But always in that vague way one talked about an old friend or a particularly cherished memory. She’d never really asked him how it felt when he lost it – or how it still felt. No matter how much she missed the TARDIS herself, she knew that she couldn’t possibly understand what it would feel like to lose the last connection he had to his people. 

Another part of her, a smaller part, worried that if he thought too deeply about the trade-off he’d made on Bad Wolf Bay, he’d decide he’d made the wrong choice.

“Very astute, I haven’t got a TARDIS to offer you,” said the Doctor, in a breezy voice that rang hollow. “So what about money, hmm? Your own island? A minion or two?” 

Rose cleared her throat loudly. 

“—Okay, no minions. How about your own zeppelin? The newest model has bluetooth.”

“As if you would ever let me out of this cell,” the Master said. “You and I both know you’re outmatched now even with your steel doors and your keypads.”

“I think you underestimate just how far I’ll go to save Rose’s life,” the Doctor said. In a more desperate voice, he added, “Master, please. Help her.”

Rose swallowed and look away. This was exactly what she had been afraid of. She couldn’t stand this – this being some sort of pawn in the Master’s megalomaniac plans. _My choice_ , she reminded herself. Whatever the Master wanted, the Doctor had promised her she would get to make the choice. 

The Master stood up, his eyes level with the Doctor’s. “You know what I want.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Doctor, “but I can’t get you the TARDIS. Literally. She’s locked in a way in a parallel universe.”

“You got here, didn’t you?” The Master’s eyes glinted. “You forget, Doctor, I’ve been pushing through the Void and into this universe for months now. The walls between this world and the next are weak. All it would take is one... tiny... little push.” The Master tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Now where could we get technology like that?”

The Master’s eyes shifted from the Doctor and landed on Rose. He continued, “Oh, that’s right. Your girlfriend already has technology like that. Tell me, Doctor, why would a human need technology that can punch a hole through this world and into the next?”

“Rose was looking for me.”

“You? The _knock-off_?” The very notion seemed hilarious to him. “Be honest, Rose, when you went looking for the Doctor, is _this_ the man you expected to come back with? Really?”

“Don’t talk to her,” the Doctor snapped. 

“It’s okay,” Rose said. Truthfully, after the horrible hallucinations she’d had, the Master’s insults barely fazed her. He reminded her of a five-year-old who broke the other kids’ crayons when he didn’t get his way. 

The Master waved a hand. “It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. I know how high you jumped when you thought he was calling – the _real_ Doctor. A voice in your head, Rose Tyler, that’s all it took. A phantom of a real Time Lord and you were ready to tear the world apart.” He shrugged disdainfully. “Truthfully, I was a almost disappointed. I expected a little more from the girl who’d swallowed the Vortex itself.”

Rose kept her shoulders squared, her chin high, and her face cold. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?” His eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he turned his attention to Rose. “I’ve met so many like you. Sad little humans with small little lives, trailing around after him, feeling oh-so-special because he chose you.” For a moment he clasped his hands together in front of his chest and looked towards the ceiling, a mock gesture of adoration, then he dropped the act and sent her a pitying look. “He’s got a new one every time we meet. UNIT’s dumb blonde fetch-and-carry, the obnoxious little boy, that shouty American with that godawful voice, the med student with the hopeless crush… It’s a wonder he can keep track of you all.” 

Rose opened her mouth to reply, but the Doctor was faster. “Enough,” he said. He planted himself in Rose’s path to the Master. He eyed the Master suspiciously. “Let’s say we do what you want. Help you find the TARDIS. You’ll take that thing out of Rose?”

Before the Master could answer, Rose cut in, “No way, Doctor. Not that. We are not helping him get the TARDIS. You can both forget it.”

The Master pressed his lips together in a pout. “Come on, I won’t hurt it. Probably.”

Rose scowled and lifted her chin in defiance. “I’d die before I let you get your hands on it.”

“That is being arranged.”

“Stop it,” the Doctor snapped in the Master’s direction. He ran his fingers through his hair and then turned to face Rose. She knew what he was going to say before he said it. “Rose—"

“No. That’s my answer, yeah? You promised, Doctor. We can’t. I won’t help him with that.”

“Rose—" he tried again, and then, glancing back at the Master, he placed a hand on her elbow and nodded his head. “Let’s talk about this in private, hmm?”

Rose glanced back at the Master. He rocked back and forth and then gave her a little wave.

“Fine,” she hissed. “But my answer’s gonna be the same.”

Instead of replying, the Doctor gently guided her from the cell, punching in the code to lock it up behind them. Rose felt some of her tension melt out of her as the doors slid shut. No matter how hard she tried to ignore the Master’s taunting, he’d still found a way under her skin.

The Doctor glanced back at the door and then led Rose a few feet down the hall before he stopped. He kept his voice low. “Rose, it’s not all that bad a deal when you think about it.”

“Have you lost your _mind_?” Rose said. Her voice came out louder than she intended and she sucked in a deep breath, and tried again. “The _TARDIS_? That’s what you’re willing to negotiate? If that gets into his hands—"

“It won’t,” said the Doctor. “The other Doctor will see to that. All we’d be doing is helping the Master get back where he came from. That’s it.”

“That is not ‘it’,” said Rose. “We can’t just dump the Master off on the other you.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be right and you know it.”

The Doctor shrugged. “He’s the Time Lord, Rose. He’s the only one who truly has a chance against the Master.” He paused. “To be honest, he might even enjoy the company.”

But Rose was still shaking her head, looking disgusted. “Yeah, and what if you’re wrong? If the Master does get his hands on the TARDIS? What then, Doctor? What happens to that world? To the other you?”

His hands shook as he waved them in the air. “Why are you more worried about what _could_ happen to him than what is happening to you, right now?” 

“Well, unlike you, obviously, I care about what happens to him—"

“Yes, and it’s your constant concern for him that got us into this mess in the first place!”

Rose’s jaw dropped at the same time as the Doctor’s eyes widened, like he’d only just realized what he’d said. 

“Sorry,” he said immediately. 

Arms folded, she pursed her lips and looked away from him. Anger and frustration and a little bit of shame burned in her throat, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. 

“Sorry, Rose, I’m so sorry,” he repeated, and this time he sounded genuine. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just…” 

He rubbed his face with his hands and sighed, a weary, exhausted sound that tugged at her despite her anger. She’d been afraid of this. She’d wanted it to be her choice, but the thought of telling the Doctor she was choosing to die scared her almost as much as the thought of dying itself.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and reluctantly she turned her head to look at him. 

“You’re worried about the other universe,” he said quietly, “but what happens to _this_ world, Rose, if he stays here? Torchwood can’t hold him forever, and then what? Who’s gonna stop him? Me?” His smile was bitter. “I’m no match for him anymore. I can’t regenerate, I haven’t got a TARDIS. I could spend the rest of my life trying to stop him and he’d outlive me for thousands of years.”

As he spoke, Rose found herself trying to picture the man who had appeared so suddenly in the console room all those years ago, in a burst of golden light. He was so much older now. She wondered how many of those wrinkles could be attributed to her.

“And your family,” he went on. “What about them? What do you think he might do to them?”

“Don’t bring my family into this,” said Rose, but she could already feel herself losing ground.

The Doctor’s expression was pitying. “They’re already in this, Rose. You’re dying.” 

It was nothing she didn’t already know, but the blunt words felt like a punch to the gut. Suddenly her head was pounding again. She reached up to massage her right temple, and looked away from the Doctor’s intense gaze. Her eyes landed on one of the other cells – it was minimum security, housing an alien she didn’t recognize. It almost looked like a sort of leopard – a leopard that could walk on two legs. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she was hallucinating again. “Okay,” she found herself saying. She tried not to be concerned about how eager the Doctor seemed to be to dump all of this on his other self and wash his hands of the Master. “Okay, fine. We’ll take the stupid deal.”

She sensed the Doctor sag with relief. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Then, “Rose, if the other Doctor was here right now, he would agree with me.”

“Well that’s good,” Rose said curtly, “‘cos it’s not like we’re going to get a chance to ask his permission.” But truthfully she suspected he was right. Shaking herself, she said, “The Dimension Cannon only worked before because of the Darkness. What if we can’t get it working again? Or it’s dangerous? You’ve always said, travelling between parallel worlds rips a hole in the universe.”

“The Master’s right. The walls between this world and the next are weak. It’ll take some modifications, but I reckon I can get the Dimension Cannon up and running again.” He paused. “One way ticket only, though. As soon as the Master goes through, we seal this world back up forever.”

She frowned. “Is that safe?”

“Safe enough,” he said with a dismissive gesture.

It was funny, she thought, that when it was the other Doctor she was worried about, the Dimension Cannon was unthinkably dangerous, but now that it was her life was on the line, the Doctor was perfectly cavalier about it. 

Sensing her hesitation, he tried again, softer this time. “If there’s anything I can do to save you, Rose, I’ve got to try.” For once his face was heartbreakingly open and honest. “I know you’d do the same if it was me.”

_Yeah_ , she thought, remembering how determined she’d been to help the voice she’d thought was the Doctor, how all warnings had seemed inconsequential compared to the crushing possibility of denying him help when he needed it. Exactly the same. 

“All right,” she said, and as she nodded in assent the Doctor kissed her forehead.

His lips lingered against her skin for a handful of spare seconds, then he took her hand in his and lead her back to the Master’s cell.


	7. Chapter 7

When the steel doors rolled open again, the Master was lounging on the bed, his arms folded behind his head. Rose knew his relaxed air had been selected specifically to annoy her, but it still set her teeth on edge.

“All right,” said the Doctor. “You help Rose, I’ll get you back to the TARDIS.”

“Mmm.” The Master smiled at the ceiling of his cell. “How generous.” All at once the mirth melted from his face, replaced by something much darker. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

The Doctor didn’t look like he understood any better than she did. “What?”

The Master sat up again, his legs folded, elbows perched on his knees. “In exchange for helping her, I let you push a button and launch me somewhere? I don’t think so. What’s to stop you shooting me into space, or sending me back into the Void?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” said the Doctor, and Rose found herself strangely disappointed that he was telling the truth. 

“No,” the Master agreed, “you probably wouldn’t. But then I wouldn’t have expected you to play house and start working for Torchwood, either, so it seems you’re full of surprises.”

Rose’s patience, long-since frayed, was about to snap entirely. “Guess you’ll just have to trust us,” she sneered.

The Master looked as though he was mildly entertained by the suggestion. “No, I’ve got a better idea.” With a glint in his eye he looked toward the Doctor. “Come with me, and we’ve got a deal.”

Of all possible requests, Rose hadn’t anticipated that. 

Neither, it seemed, had the Doctor; his determinedly-cool mask slipped, eyebrows rising in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

At the same time, Rose said, “Hang on, you want us to come _with_ you? To the other world?”

The Master rolled his eyes with more gusto than anyone she’d ever seen, including her ten-year-old brother. “Not _you_ ,” he said disdainfully. “Him.”

As he turned his attention back to the Doctor, so did Rose. Unlike earlier, when his grip had been painful, now the Doctor’s hold on her hand felt loose, his fingers simply hanging in hers. Instinctively, Rose tightened her own grip.

To her relief, the Doctor said, “I’m not leaving her.” But it was far from the strong declaration she might have hoped for. His voice had the far-away quality of someone who found themselves saying words they hadn’t expected.

 _He’s surprised_ , she thought, _that’s all_ , but her nausea had returned.

“Oh please,” said the Master, “it’d be an act of compassion to rescue you from whatever… this… is.” He waved one hand in the air as if to encompass and dismiss all of the Doctor’s new life at once. Then he sprang to his feet and approached the glass until he and the Doctor were nearly eye to eye. “I know you, Doctor, and this claustrophobic life isn’t you, never has been. That’s why you left Gallifrey, isn’t it? You could never stand to sit still in one place too long.” 

The Doctor’s hand twitched in hers, but he said nothing.

“I mean, sure, every few centuries, you give it a go,” the Master went on. “Scare some school teachers, rattle around UNIT. But it never lasts. You get that itch. I know what that’s like. How long have you been here? Do you feel it yet?” 

His words were low and undeniably manipulative, but there was an intimacy in them, too, that made Rose all the more uncomfortable. She’d never expected to meet someone from the Doctor’s own race, and after six years in this universe, she’d long since stopped expecting to meet anyone who knew him better than she did. But she remembered the almost fond way the Doctor had described the Master back in their kitchen, and the wistful nostalgia she’d heard when he described their childhood together. She wanted to believe the Master was wrong, that he had no idea who the Doctor really was, that someone so cruel could never have any insight into someone so kind.

She couldn’t quite convince herself. 

“I know you must have thought about it,” the Master continued, tilting his head. “No regenerations. The rest of your life spent on this one planet – the same air, the same sun, day after day until you die. Doesn’t the thought of it make you sick?” He raised his eyebrows. “You can have it back again. The TARDIS. Come with me.”

The Doctor had done his best to keep his face blank while the Master spoke, and it was a commendable effort; but to someone who knew him like Rose did – or like the Master did, she thought grudgingly – the cracks were easy to see. 

“I can’t leave Rose,” the Doctor said at last, and Rose exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

“So instead you’ll let her die,” sneered the Master, and under the disdain Rose thought she might even sense some hurt. “How _noble_.” He looked at Rose. “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure his theatrics at your deathbed will be spectacular. They certainly were for me.”

“Right,” said Rose, clutching the Doctor’s hand tighter. “That’s enough. We’re done here.”

As she reached across to the keypad to shut the doors, the Master smiled at the Doctor again. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

\---

They barely spoke the entire way home.

The Doctor spent the taxi ride staring at the back of the driver’s headrest, his hands folded together in his lap. Though his cold determination on the ride over had scared her, the hopelessness and defeat radiating off him now was much worse. She hated seeing him look so small, and the worst part was knowing that this was him keeping it together: whatever he was feeling was more intense than what he allowed to show through the surface. Rose spent the journey home with her eyes closed, trying to quell her nausea. 

The silence followed them into their bedroom. As she dressed for bed, Rose found herself cataloguing regrets; suddenly the row they’d had the week before seemed unbearably stupid, and she desperately wanted to reclaim the days they’d wasted barely speaking to each other. She should have gone to the quarry with him and let Hyde Park alone. She watched the Doctor slide the tie from around his neck and thought fiercely, _I should have shagged him in that chair this morning._

Finally, the quiet was too much for her. 

“Look,” she said, trying to infuse her words with a confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m not giving up yet. But it’s late, and we’re both tired. So we’ll get some sleep and talk about it in the morning, yeah?”

“Mmm.” It was a noncommittal noise, and he nodded without meeting her eyes. Around her fear and worry, Rose felt a surge of anger.

He’d _promised_ he wouldn’t run away.

She crossed around the bed to get to him, grabbing his hands before they could get to work unbuttoning his shirt. “Doctor, I need you in my corner.”

His responding smile was sad. “I am in your corner.” But he looked down at their hands and took a half-step back. “You sleep. I’m… not tired yet.”

The dark circles under his eyes said otherwise. Beyond that, she found herself embarrassingly intimidated by the prospect of sleeping alone. At any moment she might start to see something that wasn’t there.

“Doctor…”

“I’ll just be in the next room, if you need me,” he said, as though he’d read her mind. “I just…” He sighed. “I just need some time alone, okay?”

 _No_ , she thought, _it’s not okay. I need you._

But that wasn’t fair. He was scared too, and she knew that for the Doctor, the thought of anyone else seeing that fear only exacerbated it. Time alone to come to terms with what had happened, removed from the pressure of wanting to be brave for her, might be just what he needed.

She nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

The Doctor’s fingers brushed through her hair. “Get some sleep,” he whispered, and then walked into the hallway.

The bedframe squeaked as Rose sat down on the end of the mattress, nervously fiddling with the hem of the oversized t-shirt she slept in. Against her will she found herself wondering what upset the Doctor more: the possibility that he might lose her, or the possibility that the Master was right.

 _You’re being silly_ , she scolded herself. She knew the Doctor loved her. He’d be absolutely devastated if he lost her. And yet... 

He’d loved travelling, too, and he’d given it up for her. Now he stood to lose both. What was left for him here if she died?

 _The Master_ , said another voice in her head, and she felt sick at the thought. 

Shaking herself, she stood and moved to go brush her teeth. As she passed through the hallway, she couldn’t help but look down towards the living room. She could just make out the outline of the Doctor, crouched on the sofa with his head in his hands.

\---

Rose didn’t sleep well at first, twisting and turning, sweaty and overheated. The bed felt too big; too empty. Finally, sprawled out on top of the covers, she drifted off. 

It felt like minutes instead of hours when she woke up, pulled from her sleep by a violent pounding in her head. Crusty eyelids fluttered open, and through the haze of pain in her head, she saw bright sunlight pouring in from the gap in the curtains. It looked like it was going to be another hot day in London. She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in the pillow. Everything seemed to make the pain in her head worse – the light, the heat, the familiar noise of a zeppelin trundling by outside. 

What had the Master said? That her brain was liquefying from the inside? She’d wanted to think that he was exaggerating to scare her, but at the moment the possibility felt very real, and very close.

Finally, she rolled over and forced her eyes open again. The light rushed in, nearly blinding her. Nausea rolled through her stomach, but she swallowed it down, and eventually it passed. Forcing herself to sit, she shifted her legs off the bed and, with what felt like herculean effort, pushed herself to her feet.

 _Mission accomplished_. Her stomach was still roiling, but she was standing. The Master didn’t have her beat, not yet.

She felt something wet on her face, above her lip. She reached up to swipe her hand under her nose, and when she pulled it away, her fingers came away smeared with blood. She stared down at them for a second, mind unable to comprehend where the blood had come from. As she stared down at her fingers, a droplet of blood fell to the ground, landing on the carpet before pooling. Then another one. And another.

Rose stared down at the carpet, breath becoming ragged. Jackie had given them that carpet – a persian rug, the best that money could buy. Now it was stained with blood. Her blood.

 _Just a bloody nose_ , she thought. Everyone got them. She told herself calm down, but it was getting harder to breathe. The room was spinning, her throat was clogged, and blood was beginning to drip down her nostrils, over her lips, on her chin. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, her hands shaking. 

And there was something in her eye.

In a real panic now, Rose stumbled over to the vanity. She could barely see as something warm and thick pooled in the corner of her eyes. She made it to the vanity, bloodied hands clutching its edges as she looked into the mirror. She choked on a gasp as she stared at her reflection – blood everywhere. Coming from her nose, pooling in the corner of her eyes. She turned her head. It was dripping from her ears.

The room spun around her and she forced her eyes shut. Warm blood trickled down her face, down her neck. She sucked in a breath of air, chest feeling tight and pained. 

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath, still bracing her weight on the edge of the vanity. _Just a hallucination_ , she told herself. Like the cockroaches. Or thinking the Doctor had been struck by that car. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t.

She opened her mouth to call out for the Doctor, but something made her stop. She remembered the way he’d looked last night after speaking with the Master. He was already teetering on the edge; she didn’t want to push him over it. And if there was no way of stopping this thing, if these really were her last few days alive, she had to be brave. She had to face this thing on her own. 

The last thought seemed to calm her and she took another deep breath before daring to open her eyes. Her image in the mirror swam back into view, but it was normal this time – there was no blood, no other visible signs that her brain was fighting a losing war.

She took a deep breath, and then another, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. It was no use though. It was like she told the Doctor – it was getting harder to tell what was real and what wasn’t, and it was terrifying.

\---

Rose took a shower and swallowed a handful of Advil before going to find the Doctor. By the time she emerged from the bedroom, she felt more like herself again. Her hands were no longer shaking and the painkillers had dulled the worst of her headache.

Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows of the flat. Normally, she loved how bright and open their flat was. Although it was a far cry from being bigger on the inside, it was about as large as London could offer in her price range and equipped with modern floor-to-ceiling windows in the lounge and the bedroom. Now sunlight made her wince. It felt like a knife was stabbing against her eyes and in her head. 

She found the Doctor in kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in front of him. He didn’t seem to be drinking it though. Instead he was staring into space, lost in thought. Somehow he looked even worse than he had the night before. The circles under his eyes were darker and Rose suspected he hadn’t slept a wink. His eyes seemed swollen, like it was an effort to hold them open, and she found herself wondering if he’d been crying.

She felt a pang of sadness and something that felt like a rejection – why hadn’t he come to her? She would have been there for him. _Together_. That was how it was supposed to work.

Rose cleared her throat and the Doctor looked over, blinking rapidly like he was surprised to see her hovering in the doorway. 

“Good morning,” she found herself saying. Her voice sounded scratchy. She cleared her throat, and opened her mouth to tell him more – like about how she hallucinated again that morning, and how worried she was about him, and maybe that he could use a good shave. 

But something stopped her. He wasn’t smiling at her (and the Doctor _always_ smiled at her). Instead he was looking at her with something akin to trepidation, and a little bit guilty, like she had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Her stomach twisted nervously.

“Hello. Sleep well?” he jerked his head to the counter. “I made coffee.... although it may be, ah, rather lukewarm by now.”

Rose nodded, and more to give herself something to do than an actual desire for coffee, she walked over to the coffee pot and pulled out a mug for herself. She pulled out the coffee carafe and filled her mug, feeling the Doctor’s eyes on her back. 

When she turned around, she found him watching her with something soft and pensive in his eyes. He quickly looked away and down at the table, clearing his throat. “Rose, we should talk.”

Rose picked up her coffee mug, her stomach coiling so tightly that she felt nauseous. _We should talk_. Nothing good ever came out of those words. But she forced herself to walk over to the table where she sat down across from the Doctor. She tried to keep her voice calm. “Okay. Talk about what?”

Despite her best efforts, her voice shook. She took a sip of coffee and made a face – it wasn’t just lukewarm, but practically cold – and then set the mug down again, trying to ignore the sudden beating of her heart. 

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair and then sighed, a heavy rattling noise that seemed to echo through the room. “Rose, I’ve considered all the possibilities, all the options. I’ve thought about this from every angle there is and then thought about it some more.” He looked up at her. “There’s only one choice here. One thing we can do.”

Despite the almost suffocatingly hot weather, Rose suddenly felt cold. Before he could say anything else, she said, “You’re gonna go with him. Do what he wants.” 

She told herself that she’d expected this. It even made sense. Why would the Doctor want to stay on this world if she was gone? What would be the point? Especially if he had a chance at getting the TARDIS back. 

“It’s not a bad deal, Rose. You’ll get to live your life with your family, and the Master will be gone from this world.” He smiled thinly. “I’ll have the chance to travel again.” 

“Yeah, but we’ll be separated,” Rose said, but couldn’t help but feel like her words were futile. Wouldn’t he have already considered that? Weighed the benefits of accepting or rejecting the Master’s offer? And decided whatever the price was for saving her life, it was worth it? 

“Yes,” said the Doctor. He still wasn’t looking at her. “Forever this time.”

Rose found herself shaking her head. No, she remembered all too well what it had been like the first time. But this – this was six years later, and the Doctor was no longer just her friend, no longer just the man she loved. Now he was all that and more – partner, lover, confidant. Whatever pain she had felt the first time would be magnified by what he was to her now. 

“We’ll find a way,” she said and her voice became more animated. “We always do, Doctor. We’ll keep the Void between worlds open and I can... I’ll find my way back to you.” She forced a smile, trying for some levity. “I always do, yeah? I’ll find you.” 

“No,” he said brusquely, “too risky. One person travelling across the Void is dangerous enough as it is, but now there’s two of us. Anything more could destroy this universe. I’m sorry, Rose, but you’ll have to close the gap after we’re gone.”

As he spoke, Rose watched him carefully for some sign that he was finding this as difficult as she was, but there was no crack in his voice, no emotions on his face. “What about the other you, then?” she pressed. “If you do find the other Doctor, once you stop the Master, maybe you can can come back, yeah? He’d help you come back. You know he would.”

It was a long moment before he answered. Staring into his coffee, his answer was soft. “Maybe I don’t want to come back.”

Rose blinked at him, momentarily dumbstruck. A hollow and aching feeling pressed against her chest. “I’m sorry?”

He looked up at her, his eyes pensive and far away. “Rose, it’s the TARDIS. I never thought I’d get a chance to see her again. This world, living here without a TARDIS... it’s been so very lonely.”

 _But it’s me_ , Rose wanted to say, but the words got stuck in her throat. She clenched her fingers together in her lap and then stared down at them, tears blurring her vision. Deep down, Rose knew the Doctor was trying to save her life. But there was no mistaking the longing in his voice when he spoke about the TARDIS, the faint hint of excitement she could detect behind his words. She knew he loved her, but the Master was right. Maybe he loved the travel just a little bit more, and the chance to get back to it, even like this, was something he couldn’t pass up. Even if it meant being without her. 

“So that’s it?” she found herself saying, voice thick and hoarse. She could hear the pounding of her own heart in her ears, and the short gasps of her breath. “Six years together and that’s it? You’d rather have your time travelling machine?”

She stared at the Doctor, looking for some sign of guilt, some sign that this was at least difficult for him. His expression was hard and as cold as she’d ever seen him. “Yes.” Then, with that same blank expression, he said, “I’m sorry, Rose. I am. But I never thought... I have a chance to travel the universe again.” 

“Yeah, and how’s that gonna work, then?” she said sharply. “In case you’ve forgotten, the TARDIS already has a Doctor. Or are you planning to work with the Master to steal it from him?”

“Of course not,” said the Doctor, looking both surprised and offended that she would even ask him that question. _Good_ , Rose thought. About time she saw some emotion from him. “Rose, if I have it my way, he won’t get anywhere near the TARDIS.”

“Okay, fine,” she said, “let’s say you stop the Master or – I dunno, find some way of warning the other you. What then? Is he just going to share the TARDIS with you? Are you gonna go on travelling together? Become his companion?”

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, but only said, “Maybe. Something like that.”

Rose snorted. “You could barely stand to share the TARDIS for five minutes, never mind your lifetime.” Something else occurred to her, something she had never really thought about before. “Oh god,” she said, “all this time, I thought... I thought that back on Bad Wolf Bay, that it was your choice to stay behind with me. But it wasn’t, was it? He left you here, too. Just like he did me. He never would have let you stay.”

The pieces all fell into place at once and she felt ill. She looked up at the Doctor, part of her expecting him to deny it, reassure her that anything he was doing was just to save her life, that’s all. 

He hesitated, and then said, “Rose, you know how much I...” he paused, and then tried again. “I’ve been happy, the last few years, with you. Happier than I’d been in a long time. I made the best of it.” He locked eyes with her, and there was none of the Doctor’s usual warmth in his expression, none of the gentleness she expected to see when he looked at her. “But it never changed the fact that I was stuck here.”

Rose felt like she was looking into a stranger’s eyes. Everything the Master said had been right. The Doctor could do this sort of life, even enjoy it, for months, even years, but it wasn’t really _him._ A part of him would always yearn to leave, to return to his ship – his home – again. Rose had thought she knew the Doctor better than anyone, but she’d been wrong. The Master knew exactly what he was doing when he dangled the TARDIS in front of the Doctor, and asked him to choose between her and his beloved ship. The Master knew exactly what the Doctor would choose.

“If that’s how you really felt... you could have talked to me,” Rose whispered.

With that same dispassionate air, he said, “There was nothing you could have done. The way a Time Lord feels about his or her TARDIS... Rose, you don’t even have a point of reference for something like that.”

“And the Master does?” Rose said bitterly.

The Doctor shrugged. “He’s a Time Lord.”

“He’s a sociopath. You....” she swallowed thickly, “you’re... well, you.” She couldn’t stop the softness from creeping into her voice or the way she glanced over at the Doctor, again hoping for some sign, some hint that he was feeling half as cut up about all of this as she was. A part of her felt weak for just how obvious she was being, but another part of, a smaller part, was beginning to get angry. How could he sit there so calmly and talk about being separated forever and act like he didn’t care? 

“I’m me.” He smiled humourlessly. “All of this? Doors, and carpets, and living in a flat? Rose, that’s not me.” He paused. “I made the best of it, I really did, and I’m not saying that I regret any of it, but....”

“You’d rather be out there,” Rose finished, numbly. “Travelling. Even if it means being without me.”

Her voice cracked over the last word. The Doctor winced, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it came. “It’s not something I planned,” he said. “Honestly, I never thought I’d have this chance again. And it’s not so bad, is it? If it means I can save your life?”

Some of the cold detachment left his voice, and he sounded sincere, almost pleading like he was hoping she would understand. Rose found herself marvelling at how effectively he knew just how to cut her the deepest, how he knew to pick all the right things to make her believe him. She knew the Doctor could be a world class actor when he wanted to be, and a part of her couldn’t help but cling to the hope that he was only saying these things as part of some other plan, some plan he’d hatched to protect her. Even so, everything he said sounded all too plausible to Rose’s ears. She buried her face in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in deeply and willing herself to calm down. 

“Rose? Are you alright?”

It was amazing, she thought, how softly he could say her name, and how little concern he could put in his words. “Tell me I’m hallucinating again,” she said. “Tell me that none of this is real.”

She pulled her hands away from her face and opened her eyes. She caught a flash of... something on the Doctor’s face, but then it was gone. “You’re not hallucinating.” He stood up, somewhat abruptly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’m headed back to Torchwood. I think it’s best if we get this sorted as soon as possible. We don’t know how much time you’ve got left.”

 _As soon as possible_. Rose nodded, numbly, suddenly unable to speak. She couldn’t believe this was happening. 

He surveyed her up and down, somewhat curtly, as if his mind was already somewhere else, already focused on his ship in another universe. “You shouldn’t be alone. Why don’t you have Jackie come over?”

“Fine,” Rose managed, suddenly eager for him to go. She didn’t want to look at him any longer. Didn’t even want to be in the same room as him. 

“Alright—" he hesitated, and then took a step towards her, before pulling back again. “I’ll see you later.”

His footsteps echoed their way down the hall. Rose waited until she heard the door to their flat open and shut before the first of her tears began to fall.


	8. Chapter 8

The Doctor sagged against the door after he shut it, head bowed and heart hammering. Throat burning, he scrubbed a hand over his face and took a deep shuddering breath. 

Rose had believed him more easily than he’d anticipated. He knew exactly where to twist the knife – mixed lies with half-truths and cut her where he knew she was most vulnerable.

And it had been effective. Inside the flat, he could hear her beginning to cry in short, punctuated gasps, like she was trying to hold her tears back but not able to stop herself. Her cries haunted him, and he reached for the handle, yearning to go back inside and assure her that none of it was true, that he loved her more than anything in the world.

But that was the crux of it, wasn’t it?

He was going to lose her either way; those were the Master’s terms. Letting her die because he couldn’t bear to leave her would be unspeakably selfish. He wouldn’t do that to Rose or her family, couldn’t live with himself if he did. Knowing he’d helped save her life would have to be enough. 

Perhaps it was even better this way. Rose would move on, in time. Humans always did. If this was the price he had to pay to buy her that time, so be it. Hating him might even make it easier for her to let go.

Sucking in a rattling breath, he pushed himself up and trailed one hand reverently down the wood of the door. Whatever his initial fears and misgivings, the little flat had grown in his estimation over the years. It had seen so many things: his first night alone with Rose in this world, the first time they’d had sex, their first big row and reconciliation, countless mornings and afternoons and evenings spent enjoying each other’s company. Standing in the hallway now for what would be the last time, he realized that on some level he’d expected to spend the rest of his life in this flat, with Rose. It was home.

His vision started to blur and he shook himself, snatching his hand back from the door as though he’d been burned. There was no sense longing for a sentimental goodbye. He’d never been good at those anyway.

He had work to do.

The staircase at the end of the hallway in their building was rarely used, overlooked these days in favour of the lift. He shouldered the door open and leaned back against the railing. Swiping impatiently at his eyes, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled.

“Doctor?” came the voice of Pete Tyler from the other line. “What—"

“I need access to a lab and whatever’s left of the Dimension Cannon,” barked the Doctor.

He heard Pete sigh. “Are you asking permission or telling me?”

“Telling. I’ve made a deal with the Master—"

“You’ve _what_?”

“—he helps Rose—"

“What’s wrong with Rose?”

“—I get him back to the other universe.”

He could easily imagine Pete’s skeptical expression. “Is that safe?”

The Doctor shrugged and flicked a piece of peeling paint off the railing, watching it fall several storeys below. 

“It’s safer than keeping him here. Unless you’re happy having him in the same universe as Jackie, Rose, Tony?”

Pete contemplated that for a long moment, then sighed again. 

The Doctor took Pete’s silence as tacit support. “Anyway, it’ll be over soon. You could still make that Florida trip next week.” The Doctor’s throat burned as he tried to swallow down the lump that was forming in it. “Take Rose with you, I think she’d like that.” 

He ended the call before Pete could reply.

\---

The Master didn’t bother looking up as the steel doors slid open. He sat on the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, body hunched over. The Doctor could tell he was losing some of the calm mirth he had displayed yesterday, and wondered if he was still feeling the aftereffects of his time in the Void. 

Or perhaps he was beginning to feel the strain of being trapped in a holding cell with no one to talk to. The Master never liked being without an audience; the Doctor may have been able to wait him out, in the end – wait until he went half-mad again with nothing but the steel door and the drumming in his head to keep him company. 

But Rose’s life was not something the Doctor was willing to gamble with.

The Doctor’s own reflection in the glass was unimposing. The shirt from the previous day was rumpled, its collar crooked. With no tie or jacket, the whole outfit gave the impression of being half-completed. Dark circles made his eyes appear sunken, and the stubble on his face did little to distract from how hollow his cheeks looked. Taken all together, it was a far cry from the impressive figure the Doctor liked to imagine himself capable of. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The Master spoke without looking up. “Come to give in then, Doctor?”

“Yes, you’re excellent at blackmail, congratulations.” He slid his hands into his pockets and stepped towards the glass. “So have we got a deal?”

The Master lifted his head, ignoring the question as he looked the Doctor up and down. 

“Look at you,” he murmured. “You look terrible.” 

“Could say the same to you,” said the Doctor.

The Master’s lip curled in disgust. “The drumming. You’ve seen it, Doctor. You’ve seen what it does to your precious human companion.” 

The Master pushed himself to his feet, his face was gaunt, his movements unsteady. The Doctor found himself wondering when the last time it was that he had anything to eat, and doubted that Torchwood had given him anything. He was relatively weak then, half-starved, still crazed from his time in the Void. 

Truthfully, the Doctor didn’t know if that made the Master more or less dangerous.

The Master stood on the other side of the glass, his eyes piercing into the Doctor’s. “That’s how I feel all the time,” his voice was soft. “It never ends, Doctor. It never stops.”

“And I’m sorry for that,” said the Doctor. “But it doesn’t have to be like this. I would help, Master. I would. All you’d have to do is ask.”

The Master’s eyes narrowed. “Help? _You?_ ” he sneered. “You can’t even help your human. There’s nothing you could do for me.”

The Doctor clenched his teeth. Deep down, he suspected the Master was right. Maybe if he had a TARDIS... but that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

“I would try,” he finally said, putting as much sincerity into the words as he could muster.

“You would, wouldn’t you,” the Master said. He took a step back, looking the Doctor up and down as if he was seeing him for the first time. “You are different. I should have seen it before,” he murmured. “You and I, Doctor, we’re alike.”

The absurdity of it – the sheer _nerve_ of it, in light of everything – got the Doctor laughing.

“You and I are _nothing_ alike.”

“We’re both cast-offs,” said the Master. “Both left behind, exiles. Not quite the right kind of Time Lord, not Time Lord enough.” The Master moved closer to the glass and pressed his palms up against it. His eyes held the Doctor in place. “Just how far would you go for her, your little human? You’re already putting two universes at risk. You’ll sign away another man’s TARDIS. All to rescue one human girl. Tell me again, Doctor,” he murmured, “tell me how different we are. Tell me you’re not dangerous.”

The Doctor met his stare. “You’re right,” he said. “There is not much I wouldn’t do for Rose.” He took a step closer to the glass until his nose was nearly pressed up against it. “So this is how it will work. You will help Rose and I will get both of us back to the TARDIS. We don’t go anywhere until I am satisfied Rose is safe. If _anything_ happens to Rose before then, this deal is off and you will spend a very long time in this cell, alone. You and I both know I could make the rest of your life extremely unpleasant.”

The Master dropped his voice to match the Doctor’s tone. “Do people actually believe it when you threaten them?”

“The smart ones do.”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. The Master broke their stare first and took a step back, palms up. 

“You should be thanking me, really. Think of this as an intervention. I’m rescuing you from what you’ve become.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up from the Doctor’s chest. “What, _happy_?”

The Master’s mouth twisted into something between a grimace and a smile. “You know what I think?”

The Doctor looked to the ceiling in exasperation. “I don’t care what you think.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” said the Master casually. And then: “I think you’ve been playing at this whole human thing for so long that you’ve almost convinced yourself it’s what you want. But it’s not. Ten minutes on the TARDIS, and you’ll be thanking me.” The Master paused. “If you’re very lucky, I might even keep you. As my human companion.”

The Doctor snorted. “Now _that’s_ a truly horrifying thought.”

“Is it?” said the Master, eyes glinting. “You used to travel the universe, Doctor. Face it, I’m the most exciting thing that’s happened to your sad life since you were left to rot on this planet. "

For the first time since the Master’s appearance back in his life, the Doctor felt his despair and desperation melt away, replaced with a simmering rage. The Master was right about one thing: he _was_ different than he used to be. He was no longer the last the the Time Lords, burdened by a responsibility to the rest of the universe. The Time War had faded to a gentle longing in the back of his mind rather than a gaping wound. His entire world had narrowed to something much more mundane: Rose, the Tylers, a daft human life, saving the planet so he could be home in time for tea.

And he had been so happy. The Master had taken that from him. The Master had taken everything. 

Now all that was left was the hope that Rose would find happiness again, that she would go on to live a full life. 

“Help Rose,” he said. “You hold up your end of the bargain, and I’ll hold up mine.”

The Master gave a little salute. "Save the girl, got it." He smirked. "You'll want to hurry though, Doctor. I'm not sure how much time she has left." 

\---

Rose Tyler’s head felt like it wanted to split in two.

She didn’t have to have a Time Lord brain to know that she was getting worse; might even be rounding the bend towards the end. She clenched her jaw, determined to hold back the pain from consuming her for as long as possible. 

Of course, all the crying probably wasn’t doing much to help the pain in her head. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears and her nose was so stuffed, she was breathing through her mouth. 

_At least I_ am _still breathing,_ she thought bitterly. _For now, anyway._

It wasn’t much consolation for the fact that the love of her life had announced that the last six years had been nice, thank you very much, but he’d really prefer to get back to travelling in his time machine. Then turned his back and left her. Again.

She picked up her mobile and drew up her mother’s name in her contacts before she set the phone down again. Her mum would rush over in a second, Rose knew, but she would also demand answers that Rose didn’t want to give. There would be plenty of time for her mother’s questions later, after the Master fixed her, and the Doctor was gone.

In the very least, she could stand up from the kitchen table. Get dressed. Take more Advil. Anything besides... sitting here, in the kitchen, the place where the Doctor had just broken her heart.

Rose buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She hadn’t cried like this in years – not since a windy day on a breach in Norway when the Doctor’s image faded before he could tell her he loved her. Even then, she’d been so sure she knew how that sentence was going to end. Knew it enough that she spent years of her life working to find a way back to him even when it seemed like the Dimension Cannon would never work. 

Back then, Rose had thought she knew what heartbreak felt like. But this... this was so much worse. How long had he felt that way? Trapped in a human life, forced to be with her because he had no other choice? Making the best of it, the Doctor had said.

Had the other Doctor known, back when he left them? A long time ago, Rose had learned to be grateful for what the other Doctor gave them – their one chance, a perfect, human, mad life together.

But now she wondered. Maybe it had never been about giving her anything; maybe he just never wanted to be with her. Maybe he saw an opportunity to pawn her off on someone else and took it. 

Rose scrubbed a hand over her face, breathing in a shuddery gasp of air. A part of her knew she was being overly dramatic, but it was so hard to _think_. She knew how the Doctor felt about her – or she’d thought she knew. It was getting harder to focus. Their last conversation together played over and over again in her mind. She saw the Doctor’s face as he told her they would be separated again, felt the coldness in his voice when he told her he didn’t want to come back.

And how could she compete, really? What was a tiny London flat compared to all of time and space? 

There was only one thing she could do. She was tired of crying over him, and she was really tired of the Doctor leaving her behind. She didn’t want to be that girl anymore. She wouldn’t sit back and wait for him to rescue her before he disappeared from her life forever.

If this is what he truly wanted, she wouldn’t stand in the way. She would even help him. It was her own life on the line, after all.

\---

Outside the doorway to the lab Rose closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _You can do this,_ she told herself, trying not to cringe at how she sounded like a cheesy talk show host. Steeling herself, she entered the room.

The Doctor was hunched over a table, tapping away at a computer, initially oblivious to her entrance. Rose’s fingernails dug into her palm; she hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be to see him again. But she cleared her throat, and the Doctor jumped and spun around, startled by her presence.

“Rose!” For all his composure earlier, his surprise now was undeniable. “I… wasn’t expecting you here.”

She kept her expression as cold as possible while she shrugged. “Gotta be here eventually, don’t I, so you can fix me? Or are you so eager to get back to the TARDIS you forgot about that part?”

The Doctor’s mouth twitched, and for a split second Rose thought he looked hurt. There was a shameful triumph in knowing she could still hurt him; a petty part of her wanted to lash out, to break his heart as effectively as he’d broken hers. 

But the look on his face was gone as quick as it’d come, and Rose wondered if she’d imagined it after all. 

“I can do this on my own. I don’t need you here yet.”

“Tough.” She strode in the room, hoping the way she avoided his eyes read more like disdain and less like intimidation. “I’ve spent more time with the Dimension Cannon than anyone.”

From the corner of her eyes she saw him stand straighter. “Yes, but you’re…”

“What?” She folded her arms. “Stupid? Human?”

“Sick,” he finished, although his tone implied either of her suggestions would be equally appropriate. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not dead yet.” Genuine anger was overtaking her sadness now, and Rose was more than happy to let it. “I’m not just a stepping stone on your path back to the TARDIS. If this is supposed to be about saving my life, I want to be involved.”

He was quiet for so long that she was ready to start arguing again when he nodded. “Fine.” He pointed with his chin to a table in the far corner, where the burnt-out remnant of the old Cannon sat next to a host of new wires and circuit boards. “I need you to connect the new motherboard to the old mainframe. You’ll have to replace any parts that have burnt out.” 

His voice was businesslike and to-the-point, which in itself was nothing new. She’d heard that voice many times over the years, in moments of pressure or crisis, when delegating work efficiently took priority. She half expected him to toss her the sonic screwdriver – but of course he didn’t have one of those anymore.

They worked in silence for what must have been hours, Rose in her corner of the room, the Doctor in his. Occasionally the Doctor crossed the room to set a new part he’d made on the corner of her table, and Rose wired it in without looking at him. Though she was no technical genius herself, the intricacies of the Cannon had been explained to her time and again by the various scientists and technicians who had built it for her, and Rose knew the machine intimately. For brief moments Rose would forget herself, and suddenly it was as if she was working on the Cannon the first time, trying to cobble it together, desperate to return to the blue box she called home and the man she loved. 

Other times it was like nothing was wrong – just her and the Doctor, working towards a common goal. 

Both illusions left her feeling more bitter than before once they faded, and Rose wondered if it was a side-effect of whatever the Master had done to her brain. The ache in her head was dulled by medicine but constant, hanging heavy behind her eyes, pressing on her skull from the inside. Whatever else this deal might cost her, she would at least be glad to be rid of that.

Sometimes, Rose thought she could feel the Doctor watching her. It was a prickly sensation on the back of her neck that distracted her from what she was doing. She could tell he didn’t want her here, and it only fuelled her desire to stay. She wondered if he was uncomfortable because her presence made him feel guilty. 

_Good_ , she thought, ripping a frayed wire out of the Cannon.

Finally, when her fingers were burnt and her back was sore, the Dimension Cannon was starting to resemble itself again. She picked up the new chronostabilizer and pushed out her chair, rolling her shoulders as she stood. She’d forgotten how stiff this sort of work could make her. She stepped back from the desk to stretch, and—

The pain her head seemed to burst through an imaginary wall; the room spun, her vision blurred, and her knees buckled. The chronostabilizer fell with a clatter, and Rose slammed down on her side, bashing her elbow against the chair on her way down. As though it were a million miles away, she heard someone call her name. 

Almost as quick as it had come, the pain in her head receded to a tolerable throb, while hot pains shot up her arm from her elbow. As the room refocused she saw the Doctor bending over her, looking alarmed. 

“Are you okay?” The words were oddly strangled.

“I’m fine,” she bit out, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He held out his hand to pull her up and she batted it away, grabbing the chair instead.

“Rose, you...” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” she repeated, sharper this time. The concern in the Doctor’s voice stung worse than her arm. The thought of him pitying her made her sick.

“...you almost broke it,” he finished, gesturing to the chronostabilizer on the floor. He picked it up gingerly, inspecting it for any damage.

The absurdity of everything in the past two days hit her at once, and Rose found herself laughing – a jarring, delirious sound even to her own ears. Even the Doctor looked at her quizzically.

“You know, it’s funny,” she said, a bitter smile on her lips. “Two days ago, I thought I knew you better than anyone in the world. Now I feel like I might never have known you at all.”

For a long moment, the Doctor regarded her in silence, his expression inscrutable. But when he spoke, she thought she heard a hint of regret.

“Maybe you didn’t.” He packed the stabilizer under his arm and stood up straight, looking away. “This is almost done. Just take a seat, I can finish on my own.”


	9. Chapter 9

The Doctor felt like he was teetering close to a precarious edge. Facing the Master's sudden appearance back in his life had been bad enough. Coupled with trying to stay distant from Rose, he felt like a rubber band pulled dangerously taut. Physically and emotionally spent, concentrating on the Dimension Cannon took what little remained of his willpower. It probably did not help matters that it had been days since he'd slept properly. If he had still been a full Time Lord...

But there was no use even dwelling on that. If he was a Time Lord, he wouldn't be in this position in the first place.

He hadn't banked on Rose showing up at the laboratory like she had, though now it seemed obvious. That was Rose Tyler, wasn't it? She would never sit back at home and wait for him to solve a problem. Nevertheless, her appearance complicated things. Their conversation at the flat had been difficult enough; having her here in front of him, heartbroken, made it almost impossible to maintain his carefully constructed aloofness.

Still — a part of him was glad to see her, eager to soak up her company for the limited time they had left.

He couldn't stop himself from wondering if she was beginning to see through him, if she would call him out on his act. Selfishly, he found himself thinking that it would be easier for him if she did; it would be kinder to spend the rest of his days knowing that Rose understood how far he’d gone for her than to die knowing she believed the worst of him.

He didn't want to give in to thoughts like that. He tapped away at the computer, trying to ignore Rose's presence in the laboratory. He could feel her eyes on him as he worked, and sensed her growing curiosity. Several times he opened his mouth to run something by her before closing it again. If he went down that road, it would be too easy for him to fall into their usual habits. He had to focus on the job ahead of him. Fix the Dimension Cannon. Open the walls to another universe. Cure Rose. No problemo.

The laptop emitted a loud beep, warning that his latest calculations were still off the mark. The Doctor sighed, shoulders drooping. He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and staring into the computer screen.

"What is it?" Rose said. "What’s wrong?"

The Doctor kept his eyes on the computer. "I need to program the frequency _exactly_ right for the Dimension Cannon to work. One slight mistake and the consequences could be catastrophic."

"I remember," said Rose. "It took us ages to find the right frequency. Some days I felt like I travelled to every parallel world except the one I was looking for. We'd still have those readings on file though, yeah?"

"Sort of, but it’s complicated. The reason the Dimension Cannon worked before was because of the Daleks. It wasn’t just the walls between this world that were weak — it was all worlds. Getting the wrong frequency was like... like... taking the wrong exit on a motorway. Inconvenient, but you could just get on at the next entrance ramp. This time we’ve got to be precise. _More_ than precise." The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "We’ve got to ease our way through the gap in this world — anything more than that, and we risk bringing down the walls of the world around us. Interdimensional collapse."

"What was it the Master said? That he spent months pressing through the Void and into this world?" Rose paused. "Then there’s got to be... I dunno, some sort of hole or pathway to follow, wouldn’t there be?"

The Doctor considered that and then a smile began tugging at his lips. "That might just work," he said. "We’ll have to go back to Hyde Park. Seemed to be where the walls were the weakest. Torchwood has got that spot surrounded, of course, but Pete did give us... well, permission isn’t quite right, but tacit support, I suppose. _And_ I’ve got the boss’s daughter on my side..."

The Doctor’s smile dimmed as he realized what he said, and he felt his heart sink. Rose, too, seemed to deflate, as if she’d momentarily forgotten the rift between them. He turned sharply back to his computer.

" _Anyway_ ," the Doctor said hurriedly, "if we can match this Earth’s frequency to _that_ Earth’s frequency, the Dimension Cannon should be able to follow the path all the way home."

"Right," said Rose, but her voice was muted.

The Doctor couldn't help himself from glancing over at her. When he did, his stomach clenched.

"Rose," he said, "your nose is bleeding."

Rose reached up to touch her nose and then jerked her fingers back, staring down at the blood now staining the tips of her fingers. Dark spots already dotted the top of her shirt.

"Yeah," she said dully, "I suppose it is."

As if moving on instinct, she tilted her head back, pinching at the bridge of her nose.

The Doctor couldn't help himself.

"No, Rose–" Suddenly he was crouched in front of her, his hands cradling her face. His thumbs brushed against her cheeks and he gently held her in place. "Lean forward, not backwards. Counter-intuitive, I know, but better for the blood to come out than in, hmm?"

Rose followed his directions and leaned forward, elbows supporting her weight on her knees. The Doctor drew his hands back, but he stayed close to her, his heartbeat ringing in his ears. It was becoming harder to remember that he was supposed to be keeping his distance.

"We need to get the Master," he said, voice low and tight. "Now."

"I’m okay." She brushed her fingers under her nose again, pulling them away with only a few red spots on them. "It’s already clearing up, see?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"No, this has gone on long enough." He placed one hand on her knee. "The Dimension Cannon is as good as we’re going to get it and I am through watching you suffer."

Rose blinked at him and then down at the hand on her knee. A shadow crossed over her face.

"Please don't touch me," she said evenly.

The Doctor abruptly yanked his hand back. "Yes, sorry. I didn't–" He pushed himself to his feet and stepped away from her. He cleared his throat, and in a more neutral tone, managed, "I'm sorry. Habit, I suppose."

"Yeah," Rose whispered. She looked down at her lap. "It's confusing, though. I wish you'd stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop pretending like you care."

She wasn’t watching him as she said it, and the Doctor was grateful, because he was sure she’d have seen how her words stung him. _This is what you wanted_ , he reminded himself. This would be easier on her in the long run.

Wouldn’t it?

It was a moment before he answered.

"Of course I care," he said. Then he cleared his throat. "You know me. I care about all my companions."

Rose squeezed her eyes shut. "Yeah," she said, as though it were no comfort at all. "I know."

"Right," said the Doctor, feeling like something heavy was pressing against his chest. He forced himself to continue. "No more wasting time. We’re going to Hyde Park."

\---

The van jostled as the Doctor drove at a surprisingly fast clip through London’s crowded city centre, weaving sharply in and out of traffic. Rose sat in the passenger seat, a box of equipment sitting securely on her lap. The Master was locked in the back, although this seemed like a formality at best. Now that he was close to getting his goal — the TARDIS — the Doctor no longer seemed all that concerned that he would be escaping.

The Doctor had barely spoken to her since leaving the lab, and was doing a very good job of pretending that she wasn’t there. Rose tried to push aside just how much that _hurt_ , pressing her teeth together so she wouldn’t cry again. Instead she tugged her jacket more tightly around her. It was _freezing_ in the van. She opened her mouth to ask the Doctor if he would turn down the air and then closed it again. No doubt her sudden chill was another side effect of what the Master had done to her.

They veered around another side street and Rose groaned in pain as the setting sun streamed directly into her eyes. It felt like the light was shooting straight through her head.

She sensed the Doctor glancing over. "Oh, Rose, I'm sorry–"

Before he could finish, something exploded in Rose's head. She couldn’t stop her cry of pain and shock and immediately bent down, the box sliding off her lap and onto the floor. It felt like something inside of her head was giving way — and then she heard it. A low drumbeat, a pounding in her head.

"Rose?" said the Doctor, the van tilting dangerously close to the dividing line.

"It’s nothing," she gritted out. She breathed in a sharp breath of air through her nose. She just had to ignore it, that was all. It was only a noise. She could do this.

"It doesn’t look like nothing," the Doctor said tersely.

The tyres screeched as they rounded a corner at a particularly fast pace. From behind them, Rose heard a dull thud as their equipment in the backseat banged against the door.

"I’m fine," Rose said, "I–"

As she spoke, the drumming in her head seemed to get louder and she moaned, burying her head in her hands. _It’s just a noise, it’s nothing,_ she tried to tell herself. She focused on all her Torchwood training from over the years, all the things she had learned about focus and meditating and controlling physical discomfort in times of crisis.

It was no use, though. She could feel her control slipping away, the drumming beginning to take over.

" _Rose?!_ " the Doctor’s voice was panicky, and the engine was beginning to make a low whining noise as he pushed down on the accelerator.

"It’s the drumming," she said hoarsely. "I can’t... it won’t stop."

"Rose, I know it’s hard, I know. But you have to fight it. You can’t give in now."

"I know." She squeezed a fistful of hair between her hands and then released it, forcing herself to sit up. She clenched her jaw together until her muscles ached. Her eyes tracked their position from outside, gaze sweeping people cycling home from work, children lined up outside ice cream parlours. Anything else to focus on.

The Doctor pressed down on the accelerator again.

––

They drove the van through the Torchwood checkpoints, weaving their way through Hyde Park. Thankfully, Jake was stationed at the last checkpoint and didn’t seem particularly surprised when the Doctor pulled up next to him and rolled down the window. "Jake," he barked, "I need you to secure this area, but stay back, understand? You can’t let anyone through this perimeter. I mean it."

Jake blinked, peering into the vehicle at the Doctor, and then at Rose. "I heard you two were coming through. With _him_. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes," said Rose tightly. She forced a tight-lipped smile. "Do what the Doctor wants, Jake."

But Jake was still staring at her. "Rose, are you alright?"

Rose clenched her hands into fists, fingernails digging into her palms. The pain was good. It steadied her. "Fine," she said, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible. "You?"

Jake seemed to relax. "Oh, you know, the usual. No sleep until the world is safe. All that."

"Yes, while we’re on the subject–" the Doctor leaned out the window and dropped his voice. "If something happens, if the Master escapes and I can’t stop him... I’m relying on you, Jake. To do what you have to."

Jake nodded. "I’ll take care of it."

"Good man," said the Doctor. He rolled up the window. "Allons-y."

The corner of Hyde Park near the Serpentine was just as desolate as when the Master had come through. The grass was brown and dead plants littered what remained of the lawn. Rose felt that same tingle from earlier, a feeling that instinctively made her want to turn and put as much distance between this place and herself as she could.

She glanced at the Doctor. If possible, he looked even more uncomfortable than she did, and he stared at the circle of dead plants with a look that spoke of both curiosity and dread.

He noticed her look and explained: "You feel it too, don’t you? Makes sense. This place represents a weakness in the fabric of the universe, a door to worlds that should be sealed off. All my Time Lord instincts are telling me to run as far away from it as possible." He managed a grim smile. "So are my human ones, come to think of it. How is the head?"

Rose looked away from him. There was no mistaking the naked concern on his face, but she remembered what he had said back in the laboratory. _I care about all my companions._ For all the years that had passed, after everything they’d shared, in the end she was just the latest in a long line.

She really wished he wouldn’t look at her that way, though. She didn’t know what to think or believe, and it hurt in an entirely different way than the pain in her head. She opened the door to the van, beginning to pull out their laptops and equipment.

"I’m fine," she lied. The pounding was unbearable, a steady beat over every other noise around her. At least focusing on the Doctor, however emotionally difficult, was somewhat of a distraction from the drumming.

She knew the Doctor didn’t buy it, but he changed the subject and fetched the Dimension Cannon from the van. "Once you seal off the rift, it won't take long for this spot to recover."

"Right," said Rose.

She picked up the laptops and brought them over to the circle, setting them down on the ground. Her legs felt weak and sweat was beginning to collect on her forehead. She sat down cross-legged on the ground, and sensed the Doctor hovering behind her.

"I’m gonna get everything started," she said, by way of explanation.

"You’ll have to scan the Void, make sure the frequency matches the Cannon," said the Doctor, but he didn't move. He set it down next to her, and then, in a more hesitant voice, he said, "Rose, if there was something I could do..."

"We are doing something," said Rose. She plugged the standard Torchwood password into the computer and looked over her shoulder at him. "Better go get him, Doctor. Your ticket to another universe is waiting."

Despite her frustration and anger, there was genuine tenderness in her voice. The Doctor might have broken her heart, but she didn't know how to stop being in love with him.

Their eyes briefly made contact, but the Doctor hurriedly broke the stare.

"Right," he said, scratching at the back of his neck. "I'll just..."

Rose turned back to the computer as the Doctor gestured behind him. She pulled up the calculations that the Doctor had worked out earlier. From behind her, the Doctor's shoes crunched over the ground. She heard the back door to the van open and then shut.

Rose tensed when she heard the Master's voice float over.

"Hyde Park. That’s a bit risky, isn’t it? Doctor? One wrong move and you could pull this whole world into the Void behind us." There was a pause and then the Master said, "Oh, but you’ve thought of that, haven’t you? You’ve run all the scenarios and crunched all the numbers. You know there's still a risk. There will always be a risk."

"A gag," came the Doctor’s voice. "Why didn't I bring a gag? Always forgetting something."

"Come on now, Doctor. I’m about to do you a favour. Save the girl, remember that? You wouldn’t want to ruin it now."

Rose's vision blurred as she plugged the Dimension Cannon into the laptop. She heard her breath coming out in tight, pained gasps. _Focus, focus,_ she told herself. They were so close now, and she didn’t want to give the Master the satisfaction of seeing how much she was suffering. She programmed the laptop to scan the energy coming through the Void and loop that frequency back into the Cannon.

Then she pushed herself to her feet, turning around to face the two Time Lords. The Master’s hands were handcuffed behind his back, and the Doctor was tugging him along by one arm, a scowl on his face. The Master smirked at Rose, but then slid his gaze by her, landing on the Dimension Cannon.

Something else seemed to come over his face then. Something hopeful, but also a little bit eerie. With everything that had happened with the Doctor, she almost forgot what the Master's end goal was in all of this. It wasn't about ruining her life, it wasn’t about her at all, or even the Doctor — it was the TARDIS. All of this was so he could get his hands on what was potentially the greatest weapon in the universe.

And they were helping him do it.

The Doctor also noticed the Master's longing stare and he jerked the Master's arm sharply, nodding in Rose's direction.

"The Dimension Cannon is ready. It will take us back to our old universe, I promise you. We can even use it to track down the TARDIS. Now _help her_."

The Doctor’s voice was as menacing as Rose had ever heard it, but the Master was unperturbed. He shrugged off the Doctor’s hand and then squatted down in front of the laptop, eyes zooming back and forth over the numbers scrolling over the screen.

"Take off these handcuffs," he snapped over his shoulder. "I need to check your calculations."

Rose snorted. "That’s not gonna happen."

The Master glanced at her. His eyes lingered on the blood stain on her shirt.

"The bleeding has started," he murmured quietly. "Do you hear it yet? The drumming?"

Rose clenched her jaw. "Yes."

His eyes shone with something Rose wasn't stupid enough to think was sympathy. "What does it feel like?" he sounded eager, like she was a rat in a lab, a science project for him to play with. "Is the pain overwhelming?"

Rose held her ground. "Yes." The corners of her mouth lifted up in a smile. "And I was ready to die to stop you from having the TARDIS. Still am actually." Then she pulled out the keys to the handcuffs and stooped down behind him. "I could close the Void right now. Trap you here forever. Stuck in this one universe." She inserted the keys into the lock, and then glanced over at the Doctor. "But lucky for you, you're not the only person who wants the TARDIS back. And I'll tell you something else — " Rose turned the key and the handcuffs popped open, "the Doctor is gonna do everything he can to stop you from having it."

The Master rolled his shoulders. " _This_ Doctor?" he said. His voice was mocking. "No regenerations, no sonic screwdriver, and part _human._ He's barely worth the air he breathes. He had to come to me to help you."

Rose opened her mouth to respond, but she saw the Doctor shaking her head at her. Reluctantly she closed her mouth. She knew what he was trying to tell her. Don't make it worse. Don't have him change his mind. Not now. The Doctor would look after himself — and the TARDIS — and she had to trust that.

The Master flexed out his fingers and then turned his attention to the laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard, eyes eagerly tracking the numbers flashing across the scene. Finally he seemed satisfied.

"This will do," he murmured. "Yes, this will do."

"Yes we've established that," said the Doctor. "Now help her."

With all the usual dramatics of a teenager being ordered about by a parent, the Master turned to face Rose and lifted his hands.

"Inside your head again? We’ve become so close, you and I."

Rose’s lip curled. "Oh, just get it over with."

The Master’s hands moved for her temples, and Rose grit her teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of flinching or twitching or looking away.

There was no gentleness or warning when he entered her mind. It was like being hit with a hammer and Rose swayed backwards before steadying herself. She sensed him chuckling at her reaction, but he carried on. She felt sick at the idea of the Master in her head, going through all her thoughts. Finally, he seemed to focus on something, and within seconds Rose felt a pressure build and then dissipate like popping a soap bubble.

The Master wrenched himself out of her mind abruptly, and Rose sagged forward with a gasp. Her head felt barely-there, impossibly light, eerily silent, almost numb — and then she realized belatedly that was how it was meant to feel.

"Ta-da," said the Master in a flat voice.

" _Move,_ " hissed the Doctor, hauling him out of the way and taking his place in front of her. "Rose? Are you okay?"

"I… think so, yeah." She looked up, startled by his proximity to her. He was too close, he–

"Can I…?" He extended his fingers towards her head and Rose instinctively pulled back.

 _No_ , she almost said. No more people rummaging through her mind like a dusty attic. That level of exposure was humiliating no matter who was looking — and with what had happened between her and the Doctor, she felt more vulnerable than ever. She wanted to preserve some scrap of dignity if she could.

The Doctor seemed to understand her hesitancy. "I know it’s not nice, but it won’t hurt, and I won’t take long. We just need to make sure it’s gone. Okay?"

Everything about him was begging for her trust, and in spite of all that had happened Rose found herself relenting. He was right, anyway — it wouldn’t be wise to just take the Master at his word. She nodded in assent and he reached for her temples.

Despite her reluctance, the Doctor’s presence in her mind was like a warm blanket, and she felt herself relaxing into his touch. Her whole body felt calmer; even the ache in her chest lessened. For the first time in what seemed like far too long, she felt safe.

She wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

It ebbed away as gently as it’d come, and she opened her eyes slowly, reluctant to let go of her momentary respite. The Doctor’s face was close to hers, his fingers still resting on her skin.

"It’s gone," he whispered. "You might have some headaches over the next few days, but you’ll be fine."

He pulled his hands away slowly, and with a lead weight in her heart Rose wondered if this would be the last time they touched. Perhaps the Doctor wondered too, because though there was a small smile on his lips, he suddenly looked desperately sad.

"Everything’s gonna be fine, Rose," he said, and she knew he was no longer talking about her head.

 _I wish I believed you_ , she thought.

Above them, the Master huffed impatiently. "Yes, good, excellent, can we get on with it?"

The Doctor looked away first, pushing himself to his feet.

"Right," he snapped, all business again, the intimacy of moments earlier evaporating.

He grabbed the transporter disc and walked away from Rose and her computer, turning to face the Master.

"This is a one-way ticket. Rose is going to close the gap behind us, and just to be sure, this–" He tossed the transporter in the air with one hand and caught it in the other. "–will burn out once we get there. No coming back."

The Master stepped around Rose and rolled his eyes. "A real Greek tragedy."

The Doctor ignored him, looking at Rose. "You ready? You’ve got to–"

"I know how it works," she interjected. Dread had pooled in her stomach again, and she focused on her computer.

She heard the Master snicker. "Not very grateful, is she?"

"We shouldn’t keep the gap open for long," the Doctor continued. "Once it’s ready, we’ve got to go."

Eyes still trained on the computer, Rose dipped her chin in a curt nod. All these warnings couched in practicality and safety boiled down to the reality that the Doctor was ready and eager to leave and not look back. He’d done his duty and saved her life, and now he could return to the life he really wanted.

 _You’ve got a job to do_ , she told herself. There would be time for the rest later.

She moved to the Dimension Cannon for one last check of all its settings. The readings on the laptop were as encouraging as they were going to get; the Doctor’s frequency was still set. All that remained was prying open the Void to let them pass.

Her fingers hovered over the controls. For a wild moment she imagined breaking the Dimension Cannon, sabotaging their escape plan. She was safe now; why should they hold up their end of the bargain? They would figure out another way to contain the Master, and the Doctor would stay with her, like he’d promised. It would be easy, and it was what she wanted.

She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. She couldn’t do that to the Doctor. If he wanted the TARDIS, she wouldn’t stand in his way.

Opening her eyes, she steeled her reserve and activated the Cannon.

"Ready."

Then, aware that it would hurt but even more aware she’d regret it if she didn’t, Rose looked up at the Doctor. She’d expected him to look eager, or excited, but neither was true. Instead he was looking at her with the tender expression that had convinced her for so many years that she was the most important thing in his universe.

It warmed her heart and broke it at the same time.

"Rose, I…" He broke off, contemplating the next words, his mouth still open.

Rose’s throat burned. She was back on Bad Wolf Bay again, waiting for him to finish speaking–

The Doctor swallowed. "...I’m sorry," he finished.

Then he grabbed the Master by the arm and activated the disc in his hand.

Mere metres away, Rose Tyler watched the Doctor blink out of her world for the second time.


	10. Chapter 10

At first, Rose didn’t move. The once-overwhelming drumming in her head had been replaced by the echo of her own heartbeat in her ears, thumping in sorrow as she stared at the empty spot of grass where the Doctor last stood. Minutes passed as she sat there, frozen, unwilling to move when she knew it meant moving on.

Again she found herself thinking of Norway, how that first goodbye had cleaved her in two. She remembered the sobs that had left her throat raw, and how she’d run to her mother’s arms for comfort, and the way that somehow, despite it all and everything the Doctor had said, there’d been a part of her that hadn’t accepted it as the end.

This time was different. Her cheeks were dry, and there was nothing left in her but a yawning emptiness. She’d been hollowed out.

Methodically she began to power down the Dimension Cannon and seal up the walls between worlds once again; it was like watching herself move from behind a hazy screen. If she thought too far ahead, too many steps ahead of what she was doing, the weight of it all was crushing. Instead she focused intently on each part of the process, blocking off the world around her –  a technique she’d had to perfect in the months after she’d first come to this universe, and one she knew the Doctor himself used often.

And it was that singular focus that allowed her to look –  really, properly look –  at the calculations on the screen. As she stared at the frequency the Doctor had given her for several seconds, a frown slowly formed on her lips.

Something wasn’t right.

\- - -

The Doctor had never travelled by Dimension Cannon before. Not unlike a vortex manipulator, it involved a split-second of discomfort followed by a queasiness that left him feeling light-headed and shaky on his feet. Immediately on arrival the disc he was holding burned in his palm, and he dropped it to the ground as it started to spark.

It was meant to do that; he’d designed it to do that. Nonetheless, he watched his last connection to Rose burn out with a heavy sense of regret.

 _One-way ticket_ , he reminded himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. No sense looking back now.

“Where the hell are we?” demanded the Master beside him, and for the first time the Doctor looked up to take stock of their surroundings. The sun was high in a cloudless sky above them, beating down relentlessly hot, dry air, and everywhere around them were endless pristine sand dunes. “Is this a _desert_?”

“Well,” said the Doctor flatly, “it’s not a waterpark.”

The Master sent him a withering stare and shook his head. “Unbelievable. You realize we’re going to have to walk to civilization?”

The Doctor shrugged. Every feeling he’d suppressed for the last couple days was crashing into him all at once, and the result was an exhaustion that went beyond two days worth of sleep deprivation. _Rose is safe_ , he thought, over and over again. Rose was safe, and that was the only thought worth having.

“Do whatever you like,” he replied, crossing the few metres towards the nearest upswing of a sand dune.

The Master was momentarily speechless, gawping at him from above like he’d grown a second head. And then: “What?”

“Go ahead. Walk.” The Doctor settled himself down against the sand, laying back against it. Even through his clothes the sand was uncomfortably hot. “I don’t care anymore. I’m bloody tired.”

Still the Master appeared dumbfounded. In some twisted way, it was comical.

“You’re telling me I can just walk away, and you’re gonna stay here. In the sand.”

“Yep.”

“I don’t buy it. There’s no way you’d let me wander off unsupervised by choice.” The confusion on the Master’s place was overtaken by suspicion, his eyes narrowed as he tried to work it out. “Unless…” The puzzle pieces slipped into place. “Unless there _is_ nothing for me to find.”

The Doctor lifted his hands and clapped, slow and deliberate. “Oh, well done, I thought that revelation would take at least an hour.”

In a flash the Master crossed the distance between them and grabbed the front of the Doctor’s shirt, teeth clenched.

“Where are we?!” he snarled.

The Doctor allowed himself to be lifted up without much resistance or concern while he pretended to contemplate the question.

“Well, let’s see. Atmosphere’s about seventy-eight per cent nitrogen, twenty per cent oxygen, bit of argon, some carbon dioxide. Single G-type main-sequence star in the sky. Gravity’s about nine-point-eight metres per second squared… I’d say this is Earth.” He looked from left to right at the vastness of the sand. “A lifeless Earth, mind, but still Earth.”

He punctuated that last bit with a hammy smile, and the Master scowled, tightening his grip on the Doctor’s shirt. The fabric of the collar was uncomfortably taut around his neck.

“Get us out of here.” It was practically a growl.

“Or… what, exactly?” The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Hmm? What are you gonna do? Kill me? You can’t blackmail me, there’s no one around for you to hurt.” He laughed. “I’d say you’re a little out of your depth.”

A quick series of emotions played out on the Master’s face, finally landing again on anger. He threw the Doctor back into the sand and stalked a few steps away, confirming what the Doctor already knew; he _was_ out of his depth.

Propping himself up by his elbows, the Doctor decided to enjoy having the upper hand while he still could. “You didn’t really expect me to lead you to the TARDIS, did you? After everything you’ve done? Come on, you’re cleverer than that.”

The Master whirled around, incredulous and furious.

“ _I’m_ cleverer than that? What about you? What’s your get out of jail free card? You can’t stay here, you’ll starve in a week.”

The Doctor lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Nah, I reckon dehydration will get there first.”

There was a beat of silence as the Master stared at him. And then: “You’re insane!”

The Doctor snorted. “Oh, said the pot to the kettle!”

But the Master was shaking his head, eyes wide in surprise and anger.

“ _I’ve_ never stranded myself on a dead planet _on purpose_!”

“I did give you options.” The fleeting moment of victory at the Master’s expense was being rapidly replaced by anger as the reality of the situation set in. “I’d have helped you, I would’ve. But you, you always have to make everything so _difficult_ —”

Lost in his own rant, the Master barrelled on. “You’ve always been an idiot, but this –  this is next level.” Then it was as if a light went on over his head, and he narrowed his eyes, one hand raised in accusation. “This is what you’ve wanted all this time, isn’t it?”

“ _What_?”

“You’ve wanted me as your prisoner for years! A dead planet, is that your idea of alone time?”

A bitter laugh bubbled up from the Doctor’s chest.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I don’t want this. I don’t want _you_.” Everything was stirred up now –  his anger with the Master, with himself, his grief at having Rose ripped away from him –  and it shook in his voice, low and angry. “You know, I was actually happy? Really, properly happy. For once. And you took that away.”

The Master rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, that was not happiness, that was Stockholm syndrome. You’ve gone so far down the rabbit hole you don’t even recognize how pathetic you’ve become.” His expression turned vindictive. “But you did quite a number on her, didn’t you? I saw it in her head. So sad, so _heartbroken_. Ready to die in your arms rather than live without you.” He scoffed. “She’s probably topping herself right now. Quite a pair, the two of you.”

“Rose is stronger than you know,” the Doctor bit out. “She’ll be fine.”

But still he felt guilt slithering in his stomach. Rose would spend the rest of her life not realizing what she had really meant to him, and the knowledge made him sick. She deserved so much better than what he had been able to give her, in the end.

The Master was all too aware he’d found a weak spot.

“Is that how you get rid of all of them?” he asked. “I’ve always wondered. Do you tell them they’re not interesting anymore and shunt off? That’s good.”

The Doctor shook his head and looked away. This was dangerous territory to tread, and not something he had any desire to discuss with the Master.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I bet they feel so worthless once you’re done with them. Give them a taste of time travel and then stick them back in their pathetic lives—”

The Doctor clenched his jaw. “You’re wrong.”

But Rose’s stricken face swam in his mind, biting back tears over their kitchen table. He thought of Martha Jones, walking away because of all he’d put her through, of Sarah Jane in Aberdeen—

“When I get off this planet,” the Master carried on, “I’ll kill her. You realize that, right?”

“Oh, come on. _If_ you figure out a way to get off this planet and back to another universe of your choice without imploding yourself in the process, you’re going for the TARDIS, not Rose. Even you’re not desperate enough to get revenge on a dead man.”

The Master’s scowl deepened. “I _will_ get off this rock,” he insisted.

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, probably, yeah, you usually do. But not with my help.”

Whether he’d run out of scathing words for the moment or had decided to save them for later, the Master made no reply. He plucked the broken disc out of the sand and began turning it over in his hands, and the Doctor sat back against the sand. The disc was useless now, but if it kept the Master preoccupied for the time being it was helpful enough. Closing his eyes, the Doctor took a deep breath and did his best to relax. Rose and her world were safe. So was the TARDIS. He’d done the best he could.

Nevertheless –  and perhaps it was the heat, growing worse every second, or the exhaustion, or the fact that his last proper meal had been well over twenty-four hours ago –  he couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach.

He didn’t have long to dwell on it before the Master laughed, sharp and snide.

“Oh Doctor,” he sing-songed, “your dead planet has a _spaceship_ on it.”

The words jolted the Doctor upright in a flash.

“What?”

No, there couldn’t be. Torchwood’s report had been very specific. There was no life on this Earth—

“Over there,” the Master pointed. “Top of that dune.”

Heaving himself to his feet, the Doctor squinted into the distance, shading his eyes with one hand. Sure enough, off in the horizon something large and metal was glistening in the sun.

The Master laughed again, an irritatingly triumphant sound.

“Stay here and rot if you like,” he announced. “I’m going to investigate.”

Not so long ago, the Doctor reflected, the idea of an unknown spaceship on a dead planet in a parallel universe would’ve had him giddy with excitement. Now it brought him only a bone-deep weariness. If there really was a spaceship, he couldn’t let the Master have it to himself.

With a sigh he trekked after the Master across the burning sand.

As they got closer, the metal shining in the distance had resolved into shape: large and flat and smooth at the front, with a long tail stretching out behind. Then, once they were only a few feet away, the Doctor grimaced, clamping a hand over his mouth and nose.

It wasn’t a spaceship.

“Oh, it _reeks_ ,” announced the Master, and then, equally redundantly, “Is it _organic_?”

If the unmistakable smell of death hadn’t given it away, then the bits of dry and rotting flesh and bone stretched between the strips of metal would have. Whatever it was looked to have been dead for some time, but without any life on this planet to make a meal of it, the body was relatively intact, untouched by even flies or maggots.

Nonetheless, it did nothing to calm the Doctor’s already uneasy stomach.

“So much for your spaceship,” he said.

The Master snorted. “So much for your dead planet.”

While he stepped forward to investigate the body, the Doctor stayed back, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t think that’s from Earth.”

“Came here somehow, didn’t it?” Pacing around the perimeter, the Master studied the body curiously.  “No tracks leading up to it, front half’s a bit buried… I think it crashed from above. You ever seen one of these before?”

“Flying metal stingray? No.” The Doctor watched the Master touch the head of the body and turned away with a noise of disgust.

“Come on, alien corpse on the wrong planet and you’re not even interested?” He heard a distinct tone of disappointment under the snort of disdain. “You _have_ changed.”

A humourless chuckle bubbled in the Doctor’s throat. “You may not have noticed, but I’ve been having a really shit week.” He took another look towards the Master and the creature and rolled his eyes. “What precisely are you hoping to find in a rotting body, anyway?”

“It’s half metal,” the Master said, like he was talking to an idiot. “Maybe it’s a cyborg. Maybe there’s still working tech in here. Maybe it’s got a connection to whatever ship brought it here in the first place.” Then he smirked. “Plus, you could always eat some when you’re starving later.”

The Doctor wasn’t sure which was worse: the suggestion itself, or the reality that in a few days’ time it might not seem so outrageous. He curled his lip and shook his head, walking back down the dune.

“Have fun with your corpse. I’m gonna make myself comfortable.”

\- - -

“Comfortable” was an exaggeration; there was no getting comfortable here.

The sun beat down relentlessly. The only break in the stifling air was a breeze that carried with it the sting of sand. Damp already with sweat, the Doctor’s shirt clung to him, and though he covered his face with his arms as best he could, his exposed skin was burning. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his dry mouth, and the emptiness in his stomach was becoming painful.

Curled up on his side against the sand, he found himself hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Too uncomfortable to rest properly and too weak to do much else, he sometimes heard the Master’s voice without registering any of the words.

It was not, all things told, the sort of end the Doctor had ever imagined for himself.

As a proper Time Lord he’d never given more than a theoretical thought to his own death; he’d accepted it as a potential consequence of travel, and there’d been a fair share of close scrapes, but with the trick of regeneration up his sleeve, death had, for the most part, been a concern he spent on other people.

As a human, suddenly death had become so much of a reality as to be overwhelming –  and he’d adopted the widely-accepted human coping mechanism of not thinking about it all that much. He’d allowed himself two hopes for the inevitable: that it was as far away from the present as possible, and that Rose was at his side, safe and well.

Neither of those seemed to be on the table anymore.

At least Rose was safe. Whether she was well was up for debate. At the moment she was heartbroken, callously betrayed by the person she loved most. Like the Master, he’d felt it in her mind, all that pain and hurt and anger he’d left as the only talisman of their relationship. He had hoped that in time that anger would help her, that resenting him would be easier on her in the long run than missing him, that it might even open the door for someone else, someone who was nothing like him, someone who could give her the stable human life he’d taken from her when she was nineteen.

Now he worried that he’d miscalculated, cut her too deeply. Even Rose Tyler’s heart, impossibly big though it was, must have its limits.

 _But she’s alive_ , he told himself firmly. He clung to the thought like a security blanket. Alive was a whole realm of possibility unavailable to the dead, and however horrible Rose might feel now, at least she was around to feel it. If that was to be his last victory, he’d take it.

Perhaps that itself was selfishness anyway, to believe his actions could have such an impact on Rose’s strength and resilience. In truth there was a side of him that almost longed for it; he thought of all their time together fading to nothing but a bitter memory in her mind, and his chest ached. A future where Rose Tyler no longer loved him wasn’t a future he wanted to see.

Not that he would.

Time staggered by, and even the Doctor lost track of the hours. The sun slipped down behind the horizon, taking the heat with it. In the initial relief he caught an hour or two of sleep, until he woke up shivering. Resigning himself to wakefulness, he climbed to the top of the dune, turned his back on the Master and sat, hugging his knees to his chest.

The night sky was as cloudless as it had been during the day, and with no other light source to interfere, the view of the stars was spectacular. Studying the constellations was a game of spot-the-difference: a star here or there that burned too bright, or a star gone before its time. It wasn’t exactly an alien sky – after all, this was Earth – but it was another universe, and there was something remarkable in that, despite it all. This was further from home than he’d expected to be ever again.

 _Home_. Even thinking the word felt like twisting the knife. And that was so human, wasn’t it? That longing to go home. It was something the Doctor had never really felt before. Even after the Time War, the idea of Gallifrey had been far more alluring than the reality. Now he wanted nothing more than to be back in the bed he’d shared with Rose, listening to her gentle breathing.

A cool breeze made the Doctor shudder, and he squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing the tops of his arms. There was no use dwelling on it, he knew – all he was doing was making it harder on himself. Looking back was a mistake; he’d learned that much as a Time Lord.

He heard footsteps approaching behind him, and without turning, he said, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t died yet.”

"You won’t last much longer," said the Master, with his typical sneer, but the Doctor detected a hint of underlying fear in his voice.

He doubted the Master was all that concerned for his wellbeing, and the Doctor wondered if it was something more primal rising to the surface: the fear of being alone.

"Only you would develop a grand plan that involved suicide," the Master carried on. He sniffed. "After you die, I’m going to eat you."

The Doctor sighed and with a bone-deep weariness, turned around to face the Master. He supposed he should have known he wouldn’t be left to die in peace. The Master was holding a few bits of metal – likely what he had salvaged from the stingray – and staring at the Doctor with a peculiar expression on his face. The Doctor found himself reconsidering his earlier assessment. Maybe the Master was concerned for his life after all. 

He found himself saying, almost defensively, “I’m still part-Time Lord. I might last longer than you think.”

The Master raised his eyebrows skeptically. “You won’t last another two days,” he said flatly. He paused. “There might be water somewhere. Food. We could build shelter.”

"There’s nothing," said the Doctor. "I did my homework." He gestured to the metal in the Master’s hands. "You and I both know it will take you years to build anything workable with that. Never mind the fact that you’re stuck in a parallel world." He paused, and then drawing it out, he said, "On your own."

The Master’s eyes darkened and he chucked the bits of metal down on the ground. The Doctor couldn’t help but feel a perverse thrill of victory that no matter how much the Master hated him and wished him dead at the moment, the prospect of being without him was even worse. It still ached to remember the Valiant, the Master in his arms, refusing to regenerate, choosing his own death just to hurt the Doctor.

Now the Master would know how that felt.

The Master made a noise that sounded like a growl of frustration. He threw up his arms and turned around in a large circle.

"I didn’t come back from the Void for _this_.” His voice turned more pleading. “I’ll waste away here.”

The Doctor snorted. “You’ll survive. You always do. And when your body starts wasting away, you’ll regenerate. You could last hundreds of years here.” He managed a tight smile. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend the last few hours of my life in peace, hmm?”

The Doctor didn’t know if it was the prospect of hundreds of years on his own or something else, but the Master’s eyes suddenly took on a wild, mad quality.

"No," he said harshly. "No. You are not going to die. You are not going to leave me alone."

He whirled around, as if there would be something in the distance that would be the key to saving the Doctor’s life, when there was a bright flash of light and a clapping noise, like a  snap of thunder. The Doctor instinctively brought his arm up in front of his face, the light burning against his eyes. His heart jumped in his throat. He recognized the noise, the light.

The Dimension Cannon.

He lowered his arm, his feet like lead weights and rooted to the ground. Spots danced across his vision and he blinked his eyes rapidly, his heart pounding as he waited for his eyes to readjust to the darkness. Where the light had appeared, there was now another person, about forty feet from where he and the Master were standing. For a few wild seconds, the Doctor wondered if this was his end, if the dehydration and hunger and heat stroke were making him hallucinate.

“ _Rose_ ,” the Doctor croaked.

The Master recovered from his shock first. He grabbed one of the bits of discarded metal, brandishing it like a club, then glanced back at the Doctor. His face was close enough that the Doctor could see the smug thrill of victory in his eyes, and the look sent a chill down the Doctor’s spine.

Then the Master began to run. It took the Doctor another few moments to push himself up, to force his tired legs to begin moving. Finally, with great effort, he chased after the Master, his feet scrambling over the sand as he tried to keep his balance.

Very quickly, it became obvious to the Doctor that he would not be able to catch the Master. The Master had a head start and he had barely suffered in the heat of the day. Cramps tightened in the Doctor’s abdomen and his legs. It hurt to breathe. A sick feeling pooled in his stomach. If he couldn’t catch the Master, if the Master got to Rose first… what would have been the point? After everything, how could it end like this?

He could feel adrenaline begin to pump through his system and he put on a burst of speed, heart now beating wildly in his chest. He found himself yelling, “Rose, run! Get out of here!”

But she didn’t move. As the Doctor drew closer, he could see why. He could just make out the outline of a large gun strapped across her body. He could tell the Master saw the gun at the same time as he did because he immediately came to a stop, body twisting awkwardly as he tried to stop his sprint and change directions. Rose lifted the gun, almost serenely, like this was just another Torchwood mission, like she hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere on a dead planet Earth in a parallel world.

"Rose, NO—" he found himself yelling and at the same time, the Master dropped the piece of metal and raised his hands, shaking his head.

"Come on, we can work—"

But whatever the Master was going to say was drowned out in a roar of the gun firing. The blast struck the Master square in the chest, flinging him back a few feet where he landed heavily against a sand dune. He groaned, once, and then went quiet.

The Doctor stared open-mouthed at the Master’s body, his brain sluggishly trying to process what had just happened. Rose closed the distance between them.

"Doctor?" she said, almost cautiously, like he was skittish animal. "Doctor, come on. We’ve got to go."

He turned to look at her, his mouth still hanging open. She still had the gun strapped across her body.

"You killed him," he found himself saying, hoarsely.

"Yeah," Rose said. Her voice was hard, like she was daring him to argue. "Yeah, I did. Now are you gonna let me finish saving your life or not?"

The Doctor glanced back at the Master’s body, somewhat reluctant. He’d thought he wanted nothing more than to be rid of the other man for good. This was the man who had hurt Rose. Who had tortured her for days just so the Doctor would suffer.

And still a part of him was reluctant to leave the Master behind. Not like that. Not dead and splayed out in this godforsaken planet.

"Doctor," Rose tried again. She sighed, and with something that sounded like frustration, she said, "He’ll regenerate. We shouldn’t be here when he does."

The Doctor forced himself to nod and he turned back to Rose. Some of his shock seemed to fade and he really and properly took her in for the first time. He felt a great breath of air whoosh out of him at the sight of her. She looked… healthy, and strong, and there was a familiar steel of determination in her eyes that he absolutely loved.

"What…" he began. His throat constricted with emotion and he was unable to go on. He had been so careful, thought he had hidden his calculations perfectly, thought he hadn’t given Rose any reason to think he was doing anything other than following out the Master’s plan. He had honestly expected he was going to die without seeing her again.

But she had figured him out, just like always.

Rose’s smile was small and a little sad. “You’re not as clever as you think.”

"Suppose not," he managed.

The adrenaline from earlier was beginning to fade. His limbs felt heavy and weak, but his head felt light and dizzy. He swayed slightly and then sank to the ground, his hands going out to break his fall.

"Oh my God, Doctor—"

There was so much concern and worry in her voice that his eyes started to sting with unshed tears. Little by little it sunk in that she was here, that she would take him home, that he might not have lost her for good after all. She bent down to help him, and he raised an arm, reaching blindly for her.

And her huge gun was in his way.

"Rose," he found himself croaking. "I just… I need…"

He didn’t even know how that sentence was going to end, but Rose understood. With a soft “oh!” she unstrapped the gun and dropped it to the ground. The Doctor rolled to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, face pressed against her abdomen. At first she stiffened, then relaxed, one hand smoothing down his hair.

The simple gesture unleashed the torrent of emotions he’d been fighting back for days; he opened his mouth to apologize, to tell her how much he loved her, to tell her how grateful he was that she was there, but all that came out was a sob. Another followed on its heels, and then he was crying in earnest, shoulders shaking, his fingers clutching desperately at her shirt.

"It’s okay. I’m here," Rose murmured. She smoothed a hand over his cheek, wiping at his tears, and then gently pushed him back so she could crouch down and face him. Her voice cracked. "I’ll always find you again, yeah? That’s what I do."

Despite her words, he could see hurt and sadness in her eyes, and he knew that was his fault.

"I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice thick with tears. “Rose, I’m so sorry."

"I know." She managed a tight smile. There was a beeping noise and she glanced down at the yellow disk hanging around her neck. "That’s the Dimension Cannon. It’s ready to take us home again." She swiped her thumb over the Doctor’s cheek, brushing away the last of his tears. "We’ll have time to talk later."

Rose crouched down to pick up the gun, hefting it over her shoulder. Then she held out her hand to pull the Doctor to his feet.

"Hold on tight," she said.

The Doctor nodded and then glanced over at where the Master’s body had fallen. Rose pushed down on the travel disk. The last thing he saw was a glimmering yellow light beginning to envelope the Master’s body.


	11. Chapter 11

Hyde Park buzzed with Torchwood personnel when they arrived. Half a dozen staff manned computers; another two dozen had the Serpentine surrounded, flanked out in a defensive position throughout the park. Pete was running damage control, trying to keep civilians back and explain what was happening.

Rose wasn’t going to let the Master take them by surprise again.

Bright lights flooded into her eyes from the assembled Torchwood vehicles and Rose heard the Doctor draw in a sharp breath. His grip on her arm tightened and he leaned against her, which in this instance she suspected had more to do with staying on his feet than wanting to be closer to her.

Worry and concern for the Doctor bubbled together in her stomach with something else she didn’t want to think too closely about. She was sure if she stopped to think about everything that had happened between them, she would start screaming or crying or both. Right now the Doctor wasn't in any shape for either of those reactions.

Like she’d been doing since discovering the Doctor's plan, she pushed those feelings down and focused on what she had to do next.

“Where’s the med team?” she yelled, looking around. “He needs help.”

“A med team?” said the Doctor. “Rose, I’m fine — honestly–”

“You look terrible,” she said flatly.

His face was sunburned, the skin already dry and peeling. His hair was full of sand, his clothes were filthy. There were large, dark circles under his eyes, and it looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. He was trembling slightly from the strain of standing up.

A nurse arrived, and Rose turned away. “You stay with him,” she said. “I have to go close that gap.”

Before Rose could walk away, the Doctor seized her hand. "You shouldn't have come. It was dangerous. I told you–"

"I know what you told me," Rose hissed. "You also told me you were going back to the TARDIS, not to a dead planet that would kill you in days."

The nurse bent down to open a first aid kit, and he rummaged through it, obviously trying not to look either Rose or the Doctor in the eye.

The last place she wanted to have this conversation was in front of her friends and colleagues. But she couldn't help herself from snapping, "Was that the plan the whole time, then? Martyring yourself on some parallel Earth and hoping that I would never find out?"

The Doctor stared at the ground. "Yes."

It was the answer Rose expected. She clenched her jaw. She wanted to say more about how they were supposed to be a team, in it together, and how it was supposed to have been _her choice_. And the _way_ he had done it — she wanted to tell him how badly he'd hurt her and ask if he thought it had been worth it. But this wasn't the time or place.

"I've got to get the rift closed," she said.

She stalked off, feeling the Doctor's eyes on her back. She ignored him as she made her way to the computer station, where she unstrapped her gun and set it down next to the nearest computer stand.

"Jake," she barked. "How are the readings?"

"Stabilizing," said Jake. "We're tapping into the frequency now. We should have a handle on it by morning, and the rift should be all but closed by noon tomorrow." He paused. "We might even get this weather to drop a few degrees. It's bloody boiling."

Rose came up beside him and leaned down into the computer to double-check his readings. In truth, she suspected she was looking for something to do, something to stay occupied with. The last days had been so frantic, she was almost dreading what would happen when it stopped.

"We've got this one, Rose," said Jake softly, but he wasn't looking at her.

She followed his gaze, her stomach twisting when she saw him staring at the Doctor. The med team had moved him so he was sitting on the ground, his knees drawn up to his chest. He had a large bottle of water in his hands and a damp cloth draped around his neck, and he was frowning suspiciously at the nurse, who appeared to be trying to get the Doctor to accept an IV.

"He doesn't look like he's doing very well,” said Jake, with a pointed look. “Listen, anything changes here and we'll give you a call. Until then, why don't you take him home? And I dunno... have him take a bath or something."

Rose opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again. Jake was right. Usually the Doctor would be the one barking orders and checking the readings. That he was cooperating with the nurse, however reluctantly, told her just how badly off he was, and her chest constricted. God, if she hadn't realized what had happened — if it had taken her another day to trace his frequency and go after him...

"Thanks, Jake. But you call me the second anything comes up, yeah? We can't take any chances."

She flashed back to earlier, remembering the flash of her gun, and the noise it made when it struck the Master in the chest. _Later_ , she reminded herself. There would be time for all of that later.

She made her way back to the Doctor. His eyes lit up when he saw her approaching, his mouth curling up in a hopeful smile. Rose felt herself instinctively smile back. Even if deep down she was furious with him, it still heartened her to know that after everything — the Master, and a dead planet, and near heat stroke — the Doctor could still smile at her like that.

"Hi," Rose said softly.

The Doctor gazed up at her. "Hello."

The nurse glanced back and forth between them, looking like he didn't quite know what to do next.

"Yes... hello," he finally said. "Ah, I've been... I should say... he is being very uncooperative."

The Doctor took a long swig of water from the near-empty bottle and shrugged. "H2O, Arthur. That's all I need. Best cure in the universe."

With some difficulty, the Doctor managed to push himself back to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, but then seemed to steady himself, sending Arthur far too smug a look for someone whose biggest feat in the last five minutes had been standing up.

Arthur was unimpressed. He addressed Rose. "Sleep will also help. And food. If he can keep it down."

The Doctor scoffed. "I've only thrown up once since turning part-human. And _that_ was only because of the noxious gas brought in from the planet Nordaxen. Rose, tell him."

Arthur shot Rose a questioning look and she sighed. Now didn't seem like the right moment to defend a Time Lord's metacrisis' half-human biology to a member of Torchwood's medical staff.

"He'll be fine," was all she said. She turned to the Doctor. "Time to get you home."

His eyes lit up. "Back to our flat?"

He held out a hand towards her hopefully, but something about hearing him say the words "our flat" stirred up emotions that Rose thought she had been doing a good job at repressing. She hadn't forgotten how he had used that against her. _Doors, and carpets, and living in a flat? Rose, that’s not me._

"Yeah," she said and she walked by him without taking his hand.

\---

They passed the cab ride home in silence. The Doctor leaned up against the door, taking occasional sips from his bottle of water. Rose stared out the window, hands clasped tightly together in her lap. She felt tense, every muscle in her body wound tightly together. Her mind kept replaying images from the last few days — the Doctor, telling her he wanted to leave her, the sound of the drums in her head, the look on the Master's face when she shot him.

She sucked in a tight breath. She didn't want to think about any of this.

She glanced at the Doctor. His eyes were closed. Despite his stubbly and sunburned face, he looked relaxed, almost peaceful. Rose wondered if he had drifted off to sleep when he stirred. Without opening his eyes, he stretched an arm out across the seat between them, palm facing upwards.

It reminded her of a nervous bloke on first first date, awkwardly reaching for her hand but trying to play it cool. This was different, though. It was an invitation. He was telling her he was there if she wanted.

Slowly she reached her hand out, fingers closing around his. She thought she saw him smile, and then he squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

They held hands all the way back to the flat. When they reached the door, Rose dropped his hand, reaching for her keys. As she flicked on the light switch, she tensed up again, her eyes immediately drawn to the kitchen. Neither of them had been home since the morning he sat across from her and lied to her about wanting to go back to the parallel universe.

“You should get some rest,” she said, moving into the flat.

"Rose."

She turned around. He was swaying slightly on his feet, one hand braced against the doorjamb. His eyes were sad, mouth drawn into a tight line.

"Those things I said," he began. "You have to know that I didn't–"

“No,” she said sharply, holding one finger aloft. “No, no, no, whatever apology or excuse you are about to make, save it, because you are going to need it later.”

The Doctor was undeterred. He reached out towards her, and Rose took a step back.

“Rose–"

“I mean it,” she went on. Whatever calm she’d achieved in the last hour or so was rapidly disintegrating, the anger and frustration of the last few days threatening to boil over. “We are _not_ doing this now. We are not having this discussion with you standing there, all… burnt and sandy and pitiful–"

“Rose–"

“No. We are not using this — this self-sacrifice reunion afterglow to sweep this under the rug, we are _not_. It’s not fair.”

She folded her arms across her chest and inhaled, retroactively aware her voice had risen in both pitch and volume with each sentence. Lips pursed, she stared the Doctor down, waiting for him to argue and hoping she’d be able to keep from crying if he did.

But instead he raised his palms in surrender.

“Okay,” he said gently, nodding. “Okay.”

Somehow the Doctor’s cooperation made her just as emotional as an argument might have done. His eyes were pleading with her. She could tell that he was itching to close the distance between them, hoping for a sign from her that his advances would be welcome.

Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to lean into him and let him hold her for a long time. No matter how angry she was, the idea of having to spend the rest of her life without him had been unbearably painful, and the relief at knowing that hadn’t been real, that it had never been what he wanted, was almost overwhelming. A part of her wanted to skip the row entirely and pretend that everything was just like it was, that the last few days had never happened.

Closing her eyes, she sighed and let her arms fall to her sides.

“You should go get some sleep,” she said finally, trying to keep her voice even. “You need rest.”

He sounded frustrated. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you can barely stand!" Rose snapped. “You heard what Arthur said, now go.”

For a moment he looked as though he were about to protest, but Rose raised her eyebrows and he seemed to decide against it. With one hand on the wall, he started down the hallway toward their room not unlike a child who had been sent to bed.

At the door to their bedroom he paused and turned around, his expression tender and sad.

“Rose,” he called softly, “you know I love you, right?”

_Of course,_ she could have said, _why else would you strand yourself on a dead planet?_

She wanted to say, _that’s not what you told me twelve hours ago._

Instead she swallowed thickly and said neither. “Go lay down before you collapse again and hurt yourself.”

\---

The Doctor slept for a very long time. When Rose checked on him it looked as though he’d fallen asleep the second his head touched the pillow.

She envied him, in a way. Her body was tired but her mind wouldn’t slow down. For an hour or two after he’d gone to bed she’d hovered around the flat, straightening things that didn’t need to be straightened, cleaning out an already skint fridge — anything to keep her mind occupied.

Eventually fatigue won out, and though the Doctor had stayed dutifully confined to his side of the bed, Rose settled herself on the sofa for a few hours of sleep. She woke, showered and went to the shop, all before the Doctor stirred.

It was nearly lunchtime when she got back, and she doubted the Doctor had ever slept so long in his short human life. She sighed and bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before she climbed onto the empty side of the bed and gave his shoulder a shake.

“Doctor. Hey.”

The Doctor mumbled something that might have been her name and failed to open his eyes.

She rolled her eyes and tried again. “Come on. You sleep any longer and you’re just gonna wake up tired.”

His brow furrowed and he looked at her skeptically. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, but I’ve got a lifetime of human experience telling me it’s true. Up!”

With a loud yawn but no further vocal complaint, the Doctor sat up and stretched. The bedsheet fell away, revealing a pale white chest that stood in sharp contrast to the redness on his head, neck and arms, and Rose cringed.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right.” He sensed her skepticism with a smile. “Seriously, I feel much better. Could murder some breakfast though.” His smile faded. “How’s your head?”

“Feels fine,” she said briskly. “And I thought you’d be hungry. We didn’t have anything in, so I went to the shops.” She grabbed the shopping bag from behind her and plunked it in his lap. “There’s a sandwich in there, and some drinks for you, and some aloe for your skin.”

She needn’t have elaborated; the Doctor tore through the plastic bag with eagerness to rival Tony on Christmas morning, and tucked into the sandwich with far more enthusiasm than a packaged meal from Boots warranted. It was three bites before he realized what he was doing and paused, looking at her sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said around a mouthful of rye. He set the sandwich down and swallowed. “Thank you.”

Rose stared at him in amusement. “It’s just a sandwich.”

The Doctor smiled sadly. “I wasn’t talking about the sandwich.”

Rose sat back on her ankles, looking away. She knew they had to talk sometime, that they’d have to if things were ever going to get back to normal, but still the notion was unappealing. She didn’t want to dig up all the feelings she’d managed to keep at bay, she didn’t want to cry again, she didn’t want to forgive the Doctor but neither did she want to be angry with him anymore either–

“All those things I said, Rose, I didn’t mean any of them.”

She felt him shift closer to her underneath the covers and resolutely looked away, shaking her head and snorting bitterly.

“Yeah, well, you’re a pretty convincing liar.”

"Rose, you have to know," he continued, voice soft. "All I wanted was to save your life."

"Yeah, I worked that out for myself," Rose said sharply. "Thanks for consulting me, by way the way. Instead of going ahead and making the decision for me like you've always done."

He sighed and scratched at the stubble collecting at his chin. Finally he said, "I'm not going to apologize for saving your life."

"But that's not all you did, is it?" Rose said. "You said you’d grow old with me, and then you sat there, and–and–"

"I know, I know," he said. He put a hand on her arm and she pulled her arm away. "Rose, I am so sorry for that. I am. But I needed you to believe me. I knew the Master would have to go inside your head again, and I couldn't take the risk that he would find out what I was planning. Besides–" he leaned down, trying to catch her eye. "If I hadn't, would you have let me go through with it?"

“Of course not!” She sent him a fierce scowl. “You _knew_ I would never let you trade your life for mine, so you lied! You manipulated me!"

The Doctor was undeterred, his own voice getting firmer. "I watched him torture you for days. You were dying quickly and horribly and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I couldn't let that happen. Not to you; not to your family."

“My choice,” Rose barrelled on, slapping one hand against her collarbone. “That's what you promised."

“You would have chosen wrong,” he snapped.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“You would have let yourself die. Your family would have been devastated, I would have been devastated, the Master would still be here on this planet ready to wreak havoc at any moment — and for what? What would _possibly_ have been gained from letting you die?”

Rose stared hard out their bedroom window, fighting back angry tears. She knew he had a point; nobody would have benefitted if she’d stubbornly insisted on dying. But for the Doctor to make that choice on her behalf — for him to take it upon himself to offer his life in exchange for hers…

“You should have been honest,” she said finally, her voice shaking. “You didn’t have to make me feel so… so _worthless_ , and it didn’t have to be a bloody suicide mission.”

“I wasn’t going to lead him to the TARDIS, and I wasn’t going to let you die. There were no people on that planet, no one for him to hurt.” The uncompromising tone in his voice gave way to something softer, more uncertain. “I didn’t know what else to do. What would you have done, Rose? If you were in my position, what would you have done?”

“That’s just it, isn’t it? _I’m_ always the one getting left behind or — or sent away, I’m not the one making grand plans for self-sacrifice.”

Both the Doctor’s expression and voice were incredulous. “Do you _want_ to be?”

“No, of course not! That’s not the point!” She buried her face in her hands and let out a frustrated growl, shaking her head. “ _God_ , you are infuriating sometimes.”

For a moment the Doctor was silent. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle.

“I would never have done it if I didn’t believe it was the only way to save your life,” he said quietly. “But I am very sorry that I hurt you to do that.”

Rose sighed, lifting her face from her hands and looking over at him. The Doctor was leaning towards her, his eyes wide, his hand close to her leg but not touching it. She could hear the uncertainty starting to edge into his voice, the worry that he wasn’t going to be able to make it up to her. He hadn’t accounted for this when he’d put this plan into motion.

“I believe you,” she admitted. “But you’re always sorry about something, aren’t you?”

The Doctor had no answer to that; he looked down at his lap and pulled back his hand. The dejection emanating from him tugged at something deep inside her, and she almost reached out to take his hand.

Instead she pushed herself off the bed. “I’m going to make myself something to eat. You could use a shower.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sunlight streamed into the kitchen and Rose winced, a headache building behind her eyes. It was nothing like the headaches she'd had the last few days, though. Nothing she couldn't handle. From down the hall, she heard the bathroom door close and then a few moments later, the sounds of the shower running.

Instead of making lunch, Rose found herself doing the dishes, which had piled up over the last few days. Then she cleaned off the counters, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot on the kitchen table. She finished the table and then stopped, washcloth clutched tightly in her hands. She didn’t know what to do next. A hollow and empty feeling pressed against her chest. Now that the adrenaline was fading from her system, she felt a deep weariness settling into her body.

She heard the shower turn off, followed by the buzzing of the Doctor’s electric razor. Suddenly she didn't want to be there when the Doctor finished up. She was tired of summoning up the energy to stay angry with him, and the prospect of another emotionally heart wrenching discussion — in their _kitchen_ no less — was the last thing she wanted.

Decision made, she scribbled a quick note — _Off to mum's, be home soon!_ — then grabbed her keys and her bag.

Rose didn't know if was the lack of sleep or food, or simply the strain of the last few days catching up to her body, but she was jittery the whole way to the Tyler mansion. She'd called her mum on the way over who promised to have lunch ready for her. She could hear the suspicion in her mum's voice, though, and knew Jackie would be pestering with her for questions as soon as Rose pulled up.

When she walked in, her mum was already waiting for her. Much to Rose's relief, Jackie only wrapped her up in a tight hug. Rose felt some of the tension melt out of her body. It felt so good; so right to have someone comfort her.

"Mum–" she began, a waiver in her voice. Truthfully she didn't know what to say. She didn't even know where to begin. _I almost died_ , she thought about saying. _And the Doctor broke my heart, again. To rescue me. Then I killed someone. And we're not okay. Nothing's okay._

"I know, sweetheart. I know. We'll sort it out," Jackie said soothingly. "I've sent your father and Tony down to the park. It's just us."

Jackie pulled away, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Look at you," she fussed. "Tea. That's what you need. And some food, yeah? I've got those meatballs in, your favourite."

Rose swallowed down her tears. "Thanks mum," she whispered.

She followed her mum to the kitchen who immediately bustled around, setting the kettle and pulling food out of the fridge. Rose sat down at the table and watched, too drained to offer any help. Soon Jackie had a warm plate of food in front of her, followed shortly by a steaming mug of tea. Rose's stomach rumbled when she looked down at the meatballs. They smelled divine and she was starved.

She dug in without preamble. Jackie sat down across from her with her own mug of tea and watched silently as Rose devoured her plate. Rose felt some of her energy returning as she finished, and she leaning back in her chair, looking up to find Jackie watching knowingly.

"There, you see. Some food and tea, just like I said." Then she sobered, and said, "So come on then, out with it. What's he done now?"

Rose almost thought about avoiding the question. It felt so _nice_ , sitting with her mum, her stomach full, teapot sitting on the table between them. For the first time in days, Rose almost forgot to feel sad.

"It's a long story," Rose said.

"Better start from the beginning," said Jackie. "I'll put the kettle back on."

Rose nodded and launched in. She started with the weird dreams she had, about the Doctor contacting her from the other universe. Jackie's forehead crinkled into a frown, but she didn't interrupt. Then Rose told her about the Master, and his history with the Doctor. She explained that the Master did something to her, put a bit of himself in her mind. With a hitch in her voice, she told her mum that it was killing her. At that, Jackie stood up and began to busy herself with the washing up. She was still listening, though, so Rose continued. She told her how the Doctor entered into the deal with the Master to return to their old universe, how he'd made Rose believe that it was what he wanted even though it would mean never seeing her again. Finally, she explained the Doctor's plan to trick the Master, and strand him on an inhabitable planet.

"...if I hadn't found out and gone after him," Rose finished, "he would have died. And I'd have spent my whole life thinking he didn't want to be with me."

The thought of it made her feel sick and she felt a stab of anger all over again. What _right_ had the Doctor had to make that decision on his own? He'd gone and assumed and done what he thought was best for her — _again_ without ever once stopping to ask her or consult with her.

Jackie was suspiciously silent and Rose looked over to find her standing in front of the sink. The washing up was long gone, but she was standing so eerily still and quiet that Rose felt a tendril of fear.

"Mum?" she asked.

"Did you ever think of me?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When you were dying," Jackie said slowly. Her voice was eerily calm. "Seems like the sort of thing it would be worth telling your old mum about." She paused and then turned around, her eyes sad. "Did you even think about it, Rose? How I'd feel if you..."

Rose felt like something was squeezing her insides. "Of course I did, Mum. I thought about it, I did, but I didn't know how to tell you." She looked down at the table. "Then when it seemed like the Master would fix me... I thought I was going to be okay. I didn't want to worry you."

"Oh well I think I would have noticed if the Doctor suddenly stopped showing up here," Jackie said with a huff.

Rose was relieved to hear it. Hearing Jackie speak in such a low and calm voice was one of the eeriest things she'd ever seen.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Rose said. "Really I am... I thought we could sort it, that you wouldn't ever have to know."

"It's my job to know," Jackie said. "I'm your mum, sweetheart." She shook her head. "The pair of you, it's like you get so wrapped up in each other you forget about the rest of us. It's like.... it's like you forget that you're not the only two people in the world. The rest of us aren't just here to pass in and out of your lives, Rose. You should have told me."

Rose was still staring down at the table, her stomach clenched in tight and guilty knots. She found herself nodding. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mum."

Jackie sighed and then seemed to deflate. She sat back down across from Rose and in a kinder voice, said, "So tell me, then. How comes you're really mad at him? 'Cos he lied to you to save your life? Or 'cos he almost offed himself to save you?"

Rose glanced up sharply, sensing a hint of fondness in her mum's questions. "Both. All of it," she said. She hesitated. "He broke my heart, Mum. You didn't hear him. I know he was lying, but he... he did it so _well_."

"Must have, if he made you believe him," said Jackie. Her lips curved into a small smile. "I can't imagine that man convincing anyone he doesn't love you."

Rose looked down at the table again. "Well, he did," she said, unable to keep the edge out of her voice. "And even if he hadn't... he still made the decision to trade his life for mine. That wasn't his choice to make."

Rose glanced up to find Jackie pressing her lips together tightly, like she quite badly wanted to say something but was nervous over how Rose would react. Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, just say it, Mum."

"Well, I think he made the right choice."

" _What?_ "

Jackie shrugged. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm your mum, though that's part of it, I suppose. He's had a good long life, Rose, hasn't he? But you... you're just getting started, and you've got me, and Tony, and your father... you've got a real family."

"So does he!"

"Well of course he does, Rose, that's not what I meant." She sighed. "I just understand what he was thinking, that's all. What's he got in this universe, really, except you?"

Rose bit the inside of her cheek. "That's not fair."

"Besides, wouldn't you do the same, if you were in his position?"

"Not like that," Rose snapped. "Not the way he did it." She felt tears spring into her eyes again and in a shaky voice said, "It hurt so much, Mum."

Jackie's gaze was sympathetic. "Oh, Rose."

She rubbed at her eyes. "All this time I've spent with him, a part of me always wondered if I was just a runner-up, a consolation for the life he couldn't spent in the TARDIS." She laughed. "He knew exactly how to use that against me."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. He shouldn't have done that. Of course he shouldn't have." Jackie took a sip of tea, thoughtful expression on his face. "All the same, though, I can't help but feel sorry for him."

"Mum–"

"Just think of it, though," said Jackie. "Think of how you'd feel if you knew he'd died to save you. He was trying to spare you all that, I reckon. He knew you'd never recover from that." She took another sip of tea, looking dangerously close to tears herself. "Just feel a bit sorry for him, is all." She took a deep breath and set the tea mug down. "Anyway — your dad'll be back soon. We're ordering takeaway tonight from the new curry shop, just around the corner. You can stay, if you'd like. The chicken korma is nice."

Rose felt like her head was spinning.

"No," she said automatically. "I should... the Doctor'll be wondering where I am."

"Go on, then," said Jackie. "Go on and make up with him. You'll feel better."

Rose took one more sip of tea before standing up. She hoped her mum was right.

\---

The flat was quiet when Rose walked in. "Doctor?" she called. There was no answer.

She closed the door behind her and walked down the hall, peering into each room as she went. He wasn't in the kitchen, or the sitting room, and the office was empty. Finally she opened the door to their bedroom and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together.

He looked up at her when she entered. He'd changed into a clean suit, and he was clean shaven, but he looked so _haggard_ , and so defeated, that it was as if he'd never slept or changed at all.

"Are you..." _okay_ , she intended to finish and then something caught her eye. A suitcase, by the edge of the bed. It was open, and stuffed haphazardly with his clothes and toiletries. Her stomach sank. "What the hell is this?"

The Doctor followed her gaze. "I heard you leave and I thought..." his voice quieted and he bowed his head, scrubbing his hands over face. "I wasn't sure you were coming back."

Rose stared at him. "Don't be stupid. I just went to have tea with Mum."

The Doctor's head shot up so suddenly that Rose was afraid he might give himself whiplash. "Really?"

"Yeah. I left a note on the kitchen table."

"Oh," he said. He took a few moments to process that. "I didn't see the note. I thought.... well."

He looked so pitiful that, like her mum, Rose found herself feeling sorry for him.

"Doctor..." she began, but he was gesturing towards the suitcase.

"So then I thought... well that's not fair, is it? You being the one to leave? It's your flat. I don't even pay rent. I don't even have money to pay rent. So _then_ I thought... to make it easier on you, I should..."

"You would leave," Rose finished, dully.

The Doctor nodded and glanced away.

“Is that…” he began, but his voice caught. He closed his eyes and swallowed, then turned to look at her. “Is that what you want?”

She didn't know what it said about them, that the idea had never occurred to her, but that it popped into the Doctor's head as soon as there was real trouble between them. She took a deep breath. In fairness, she supposed that other than saving his life, she hadn't given much indication that she still wanted to be with him.

“No,” she said quietly. “No, that’s not what I want.”

The immediate relief on his face was tainted with skepticism. “Are you sure? Because I can, if–”

“Yeah,” she said bluntly. Then, when he still looked unconvinced, she added, “I didn’t go all that way to get you just to lose you again.”

It was as if a heavy load had been lifted off his back. For a split second his mouth pulled into a smile, then he composed himself again.

"Right. Good. That’s good." He cleared his throat, and with some trepidation, said, "How is Jackie?"

"You don't have to say it like that," said Rose. "Believe it or not, I think she's actually on your side in this one."

The Doctor cricked his head back around to look at her, suddenly intrigued. "Really?"

"She thinks you could have handled it better, but yeah," Rose said. Then, somewhat reluctantly, she added, "Maybe she's got a point."

The Doctor blinked at her, and then his face went from downtrodden to hopeful. "Does she?"

"Not about everything," Rose said with a scowl, but the Doctor had pushed himself to his feet and moved closer to her — _too_ close. “I didn't say she was _right_ , yeah? I'm still cross."

He stopped in front of her, which was really distracting. She didn't sound very cross anymore. He hesitated and then took both of her hands in his, thumb swiping over the back of her hand. A smile was beginning to spread across his face, and he looked like he didn't know how to contain himself anymore.

“I didn’t think I would be back,” he said. “I thought I would die, and you wouldn’t know how much I...” He looked at her and then reached up, fingers brushing against her cheek before he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed the shell of her ear and she closed her eyes. “... how much I love you,” he finished.

She swallowed hard, her eyes still squeezed shut. “You really hurt me, Doctor."

She sensed him tense, but he only said, “I know, and I'm sorry for that, Rose, I am, but I won't be sorry that you're alive. Besides…” in a more needling tone of voice, he said, “you still came after me, hey?”

Rose bit her lip, not quite able to hide her smile. “Well, _someone’s_ gotta look after you.”

She opened her eyes, and found him gazing at her with so much fondness that it made her feel warm all over. She could tell that he wanted to kiss her, but he was holding himself back, watching her questioningly. Her heart sped up. She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. He responded immediately, his arms going around her back, pressing her closer. He kissed her desperately, like it had been weeks instead of days since they had last done this.

Finally they broke apart, breathing heavily. The Doctor pulled in her for a tight hug, lips brushing against the top of her head. "To be honest, everything worked out much better than I was expecting."

Rose pushed lightly against his chest. "It was still a stupid plan." After a pause, she said, "There was something Mum said."

When she didn't elaborate, the Doctor said, "What did Jackie say?"

Rose pulled away so she could look at him. "She thought that one of the reasons you said those things was 'cos you knew you were going to die and you wanted to make it easier for me. Keep me from knowing you'd died to save me."

The Doctor managed a small, pained smile. "Your mother, Rose Tyler, can be remarkably insightful." He sighed. "Although it may not be apparent from the last few days, all I want is for you to be happy. Alive _and_ happy."

"Yeah, but..." she swallowed hard, and it was difficult to go on. " _You_ make me happy. Thinking it was a lie, that you never... that wasn't better, Doctor. It wasn't."

The Doctor was quiet, a pensive look on his face. He took her hands in his again, watching their interlocking fingers and chewing on his bottom lip before answering.

“I wanted to make sure you could move on,” he admitted after a moment. “I thought hating me might help speed that process along for you.”

It was strange, Rose thought — and not for the first time — that such a clever man could, at times, be so very thick.

“It doesn’t work like that,” she said quietly. “You can’t just flip a switch and stop loving someone because they don’t love you.”

“I know, but…”

He sighed and looked up towards the ceiling, forehead crinkling. He led her by the hand back to the edge of their bed and took a seat, but Rose stayed standing in front of him. She could tell he was contemplating his next words, trying to come up with some combination to make her understand. When he met her eyes again it was with a mix of pride and sadness.

“You _would_ be fine without me, though. You know that, right?”

She opened her mouth to interrupt, but he shook his head and carried on.

“I mean it. It would be hard at first, I know, but you’re strong, and you’re brilliant, and you’ve got that big heart.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a small, encouraging smile. “You’d be all right, in time.”

She studied his expression, shaking her head. She saw in his eyes that he’d truly intended for it to be an encouraging speech, but whether that was truly a testament to his faith in her or a relic of his own self-doubt, she couldn’t be sure. For as long as she’d known him there’d been a part of the Doctor that seemed to think the people he loved might be better off without him.

“I could say the same to you, you know,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “If I had died, or if you were right, and I left while you were in the shower… I mean you’re strong, and brilliant, and you’ve got a big heart. You’d be fine, right?”

The Doctor’s smile faded and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, that’s… that’s different,” he said lamely.

She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “Really? Tell me how that’s different.”

He opened and closed his mouth wordlessly for several seconds before reaching up to tug at his ear.

“All right, well, I suppose it’s not… really _that_ different,” he conceded.

Point made, Rose uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on his shoulders, running her thumbs along the base of his collar.

“Look,” she began, gentle but firm. “I get it. I know what it’s like to want to help someone so bad that you find yourself not listening to reason, or worrying about your own safety, or… even being honest with the people you love.” She bit her lip, looking down. “I’ve done it. That’s how we got in this position in the first place.”

“Rose…”

“Almost got myself killed, just like you did.” She locked eyes with him again. “We can’t go blazing off on our own when we should be working as a team. We’re better together. Yeah?”

He watched her with big, hopeful eyes that squeezed her heart, and nodded. “Yeah.”

“And that means no more making executive decisions about my safety without consulting me.” Her face was calm but uncompromising. “Think you can handle that?”

The Doctor was nodding the second she finished speaking. “Yes–"

“I mean it. ‘Cause if you can’t…”

“I can,” he said seriously. “Rose, I can. I promise.”

She might have pointed out that the last promise he’d made had not turned out so well for either of them, but the naked vulnerability and desperation on his face stopped her. She pictured him packing his suitcase alone, unsure if she’d be coming back, and wondered where he’d planned to go.

“Well,” she said, adopting a lighter tone, “good. Because I think I sort of like having you around.”

Confidence crept back onto his face with a smile. “Oh yeah?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, I can use all the tall shelves in the kitchen and stuff, so…”

The smile spread into a grin and he slipped two fingers through the belt loops of her jeans to tug her towards him. It was impossible not to grin back. She stepped between his legs and clasped her fingers together behind his neck, and the Doctor’s hands moved to her hips.

“So... are we okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Almost.”

The alarm on his face almost made her laugh. “Almost?”

“Yeah, but…” She trailed her fingers slowly down his chest, undoing his jacket and sliding her hands underneath. “I can think of a few ways you could make it up to me.”

“ _Ah._ ” With a wicked grin he pulled her closer. She felt his warm fingers on her bare skin, creeping up her spine, and her heart beat faster. “Well then, Rose Tyler, I’d better get started.”

\---

The Doctor moved about the bedroom as quietly as he could while he unpacked his things, careful not to disturb Rose as she dozed on their bed. For the first time since Rose had begun to have those dreams, he felt truly relaxed. He’d almost forgotten what that was like.

Much like when he’d first arrived in this universe, it all felt unreal, and while he put away his clothes he glanced back at her regularly, reassuring himself she was still there, still breathing, still safe. It was as if she’d been slipping through his fingers for over a week now, and he’d only just managed to grab hold. He wasn’t ready to loosen his grip just yet.

He was nearly finished unpacking when he looked back at her again and found her laying awake, watching out the window with a faraway look in her eyes. He held the shirt in his hands a little tighter and swallowed. Was she having second thoughts about forgiving him?

“Everything all right?” he called, hoping he’d kept the nerves out of his voice.

The answer he got was not what he’d expected.

“I killed someone yesterday,” she said, a bald statement of fact. She looked over at him, her expression inscrutable. “Does that bother you?”

The Doctor busied himself with hanging up his shirt, trying not to remember the sound of Rose’s gun as it fired. “I think a better question is whether or not that bothers you.”

“I dunno.” She rolled onto her back, staring contemplatively at the ceiling. “He was awful. Used me, tortured me, nearly killed me, took you from me…” She shrugged. “But I keep thinking about it. I’ve never done that before, just killed someone like that.” She looked at him. “Do you think that was wrong?”

The Doctor could readily imagine any number of scenarios where he gave Rose the reassurance she was asking for without thinking. He was well aware that there were certain moral standards he applied to himself and to others that Rose simply bypassed. Had it been the Cybermen, or the Daleks, or some new threat--

But the Master was different.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

He heard her scoff. “Yeah you do, you just don’t wanna say.” But there was no malice in her words. “I mean, he was gonna regenerate, we saw it. And he would’ve died on that planet anyway.”

Whether the justification was for his benefit or for her own, the Doctor wasn’t sure.

“I’m not sorry I did it. But I dunno,” she continued, “I guess it just sort of feels like he made me more like him.”

Frowning, the Doctor spun to face her.

“Rose, you are _nothing_ like him,” he said firmly. “Trust me, I would know. He would have hurt you if he had the chance.”

She nodded, but he could see that she was mulling it over. Finally she said, “You wouldn’t have done it.”

Sighing, the Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “No. But I think I’m probably the wrong person to ask about appropriate emotional responses to the Master.”

Rose looked at him so intently he found himself shifting in discomfort, suddenly feeling very exposed. This was a conversation he’d been hoping to avoid — forever, if possible. It wasn’t even a line of thought he wanted to have.

“What is it with you and him?” she asked. “Is it because he’s a Time Lord?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly, then sighed and shook his head. “No. I don’t know.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “It’s because he’s _that_ Time Lord.”

Judgment and pity mingled together on her face as she tried to understand. He could easily imagine the kinds of questions that were running through her mind; they were questions he asked himself all the time. _Why would you care about someone like that?_ He stepped towards the bed, staring at the carpet, casting around for an explanation to offer her when in truth he didn’t have one to offer himself.

“The Master was always very good at getting under my skin,” he said. “The Time War only made it more… intense.” Drawing in a deep breath, he lifted his head. “Suppose it feels like I ought to try and save something from home.” He shrugged again and sat down on the edge of the bed by her feet. He could just make out his own reflection in the window glass. “Maybe your way’s better.”

“You can’t save someone like that,” she said gently. “They don’t change.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. Vivid images of days that had never happened flickered through his mind. “It’s probably better to be alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

Her answer was immediate, and her conviction warmed him like a cup of tea. He turned to her with a broad smile.

“No, I’m not,” he agreed happily. He was still grinning as he waved one hand. “‘Course, I’m not really a Time Lord anymore, either.”

Rose sat up, and the Doctor’s eyes followed the bare skin of her neck from her collarbone to the top of her chest.

“You’re Time Lord enough for me,” she said.

He stretched across the bed until they were only a foot or two apart. “Yeah?”

She nodded confidently, the serious expression on her face belied by the playful glimmer in her eyes. “Absolutely.”

He closed the gap between them for a kiss, and there was none of the urgency that had haunted its recent predecessors: no desperation, nothing to prove, no fear it might be the last.

It was nice — really nice.

Rose pulled away, and the Doctor ran his fingers across her shoulder and down her arm, eventually sliding his hand into hers.

“You know, I do miss the TARDIS,” he said softly, and he saw her tense. “But not nearly as much as I’d miss you.”

A shy smile blossomed across Rose’s face as she looked up at him. “You sure about that?”

Her hair was mussed, her eyeliner smudged, and the Doctor struggled to recall a time she’d ever been more radiant. He was struck, as he often was, by how remarkably lucky he was that the universe had given him this chance, and he grinned from ear to ear.

“Oh, Rose Tyler, _absolutely_.”


End file.
